i’s only four months old and still a baby, but in addition to creating the regular features that have become the DNA of the paper (like this letter), we rack our brains in those daily self-improvement meetings we have when the sport’s not on the office telly to come up with little surprises for our readers.
Sometimes, those surprises are on us - like yesterday’s TV listings snafu about which we apologise and thank you for being so understanding. Well, most of you. Perhaps not Reg Kemp who tweeted “That’s what comes of having the executive editor in charge. Can I have a refund?” Actually, yes you can Mr Kemp, from my own pocket, but only if you come to Kensington to collect your 20p.
Every now and then we manage to plan surprises in - like Jacqui Smith’s essay today on pornography, the remarkable journey back from a brain haemorrhage of ex-Orange Juice pop demi-God Edwyn Collins, or Johann Hari on the polarising subject of Paul McKenna.
Odd, the subjects that can really grind people’s gears: this week, from your letters they include: our staples (surely, a good thing), Ed Miliband’s nasal delivery, and i’s - allegedly - consistent, unfair treatment of Tony Blair.
For me, currently, it’s the blob of someone else’s discarded chewing gum that has moulded itself into the ancient carpet tiles behind my chair here at i block H. Wouldn’t happen in Simon’s office. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I am off to check on the TV listings for Wednesday, otherwise known in households throughout the land as Waterloo Road night.
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- 1990s TV
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