Sunburn (9780751580778) by Felton James

Author:Felton, James
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hachette Book Group USA

WHAT THE FU —

I’M THE BINGO BUNGLER

21 May 1984

As much as editors at the Sun probably like to think the (undeniably impressive but now declining) sales figures are down to their genius, the truth is a lot of their readers were probably only in it for the bingo (and, I would venture, the tits).

In 1981, worried about losing readers to the Star with their bingo game, the Sun introduced Sun Bingo, like Beyblade ripping off Pokémon. Within three months, circulation had gone up by half a million. Later on, they would compete with the Mirror in terms of prizes and a lot of readers vacillated between the two papers, based on how good the winnings were, which must feel great if you’re a writer trying your hardest, only to discover your readers mainly see the paper as a large lottery ticket with discardable shit printed all over the side.

Still, you must be thinking, the more space taken up by gambling, the less space for any racism. Not so fast, buddy, let’s not jump to any conclusions.

On 22 November 1985 the New Statesman published a first-person account from graphic designer Peter Court, who had worked for the Sun, of his time at the paper. On 2 August 1985, he said he overheard a sub-editor suggest that for a picture of the winners of the bingo, they use an Asian man with money stuffed into his turban.

‘No, I’m not having pictures of darkies on the front page,’ Peter Court asserted that the acting editor said, and a night editor had his back: ‘That’s the last thing our readers want – pictures of blacks raking it in.’

The winners pictured on the front page of the paper the next day were all people so white they find mayonnaise ‘too spicy’, an absolute Coldplay of honkies.

Once, on 21 May 1984, instead of announcing bingo winners, the Sun shamed the guy who ran the bingo numbers after he cocked up one of the results. This led to hundreds of delighted Sun readers queuing up outside the offices, all believing themselves to be the one true winner, like a group of pleased children who actually believed their mum when she told them they were all her favourites. I’m sorry, Gregory, but Mamma loves Richard more, it’s time to stop kidding yourself and play the cards you were dealt.

When Editor MacKenzie found out, he apparently offered the bungler – Mike Terry – the option of being either fired or faced with a bit of public humiliation. Because he was older, in poor health and unlikely to find another job in media, he chose to stick it out and take the walk of shame.

Mike Terry was literally put in a dunce cap and splashed on the front page, and shamed over several days for the mistake. His dunce-hatted little face was put next to a piece looking at THE WORLD’S GREATEST BLUNDERS. Which I suppose is better than being fired, but probably not the most fun way to spend the last years of your career during a bout of ill health.

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