and finally...


Tips on terrorising the poor punters


Many stories aim to strike fear into people so we need to build skills in this, says Chris Proctor


I


am amassing a collection of Halloween outfits, loud fireworks, whoopee cushions, Nigel Farage lookalikes,


clockwork mice and jumping spring snakes. Anything, in fact, that will scare people. I intend to use them as atmospheric backdrops for a course I am preparing on Frightening Journalism. As the title suggests, this module hones skills for alarming the public, which is part and parcel of the modern newshound’s toolkit. A fair proportion of stories are now


devoted to striking terror into the populace. They often appear under the generic header: ‘How frightened should you be about…?’


This question encompasses a wide range of topics, including my personal favourite: ‘How worried should we be about clusters of Chinese restaurants surrounding our most sensitive military bases?’


The correct response, according to the


Mail is ‘very’. The Loon Fung in Glasgow, for example, may be a front to monitor foreign dissidents and influence senior politicians. You never know. The Independent applied the ‘How


frightened?’ formula to H3N2. How worried should we be about this new strain of flu which, possibly, could lead to the most severe outbreak in decades and wreak havoc on the NHS? Metro asked the same about the spread of human metapneumovirus. Is it already in the UK? And, if so, what level of trembling is appropriate? The Beeb’s science arm wonders how


agitated we should be if the plague comes back. Lots of infectious diseases


we thought were long gone might be breaking out all over the place. So how alarmed would we be if the Black Death slipped back for an encore? I mean, given that last time it saw off half of Europe’s population, I’d say it could cause anxiety. But even this eventuality is eclipsed by the World Economic Forum asking how worried we should be given we might be on the brink of a ‘polycrisis’. This splendid concept, embracing a mélange of troubles, is studied only at postgraduate level of the Frightening module. Of course, I welcome any new strain of story that fills the purses of our profession, but I wonder about the readership. Personally, I’m not keen on anxiety so I skip over these articles. If you’d started the day without a care in the world, why would you peruse articles listing reasons why you should reduce yourself to a palpitating shadow of your earlier self? It also seems that the ‘How frightened should you be?’ formula leaves no option for zero. Having entered the spirit of the article, you can hope to emerge, at best, anxiously disconcerted and, at worse, utterly terrified. Despite this, frightening has


developed into a popular and growing industry. I am considering boosting its appeal by sponsoring awards to recognise and encourage the field. I wondered about tagging onto the


award ceremony of the Hollywood- based Academy of Science Fiction, Fantasy and Horror Films but, having researched this, I am loath to recommend it. I’m worried about the event’s founder, Dr Donald A Reed. Don, ‘a Roman Catholic whose life was profoundly influenced by a meeting with Doris Day’, is an officer of the Order of Antioch, having been initiated by Prince-Abbot Edmond II in 1971. (The


Prince-Abbot, the seventh you will recall, is also the fifth Mukungu of San Luigi). I find the personnel involved


somewhat unsettling so tend towards seeking a home at the Dead Meat Horror Awards. This features The Kill Count, analysing the number of eternal rests in any production, and rating the quality of the featured passings. Awards include the most impressive slaying (The Golden Chainsaw) and the least imposing (The Dull Machete). Surely space could be found for the Most Frightening Newspaper Question: the Hanging Hack’s Hatchet, perhaps? Those enrolled on the Frightening


“ ”


A location is chosen and the populace is told their offspring are more likely to emerge from school with a fracture than a qualification


Journalism module will begin with the lighter stuff, such as substandard alarms (tooth decay, playground dearth) or niche markets, such as the residents of Rochdale or the burghers of Brighton. Central to their work are reports of the worst places to have a heart attack or a baby or chilblains. In these pieces, a particular location is chosen and the populace is informed that their area has, for example, the worst-performing schools. They are told that their offspring are more likely to emerge from their education with a fracture than a qualification. It is the perfect horror scenario: the unfortunate readers are trapped, threatened and defenceless. Their choices are stark: they can either uproot their family and bravely go somewhere distant, abandoning income and acquaintances. Or they can condemn their own offspring to a life without enlightenment. They will never achieve the literary


levels needed to study the Daily Star. Never stand a chance of being accepted onto a Frightening Journalism course. Never meet Doris Day. What sort of future is that? Scary


or what? theJournalist |23


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