MOST of us are used to reading the odd bit of exaggeration in newspapers.Take it from this diarist, you learn the merits of adding words such as "shocking", "controversial" and, most importantly, "outraged" to your vocabulary on day one of hack school.

However, even the most hardened journos here at the Watford Observer fell open mouthed at the porkie-pie told by local parochial paper, The Villager, this month.

Again, take it from me, we all fall foul of the dreaded slow news week.

But quite what prompted the chaps (or chap) down at The Villager to "sex-up" an, albeit, unfortunate car accident which led to the untimely demise of Gizmo, an elderly cat, is a bit of a head scratcher.

Instead of printing, well, the truth, a story was published about the death of a 16-year-old boy outside his house, with no reference to the fact the victim had slightly more body hair than the average teenager.

The article went on to berate the local authority for failing to install traffic calming measures in the street and gloated that "we told you so" and "you heard it here first".

"Outrageous" I hear you cry.

Now this diarist has heard of cat's eyes but quite what the Villager was demanding remains unclear.

No.

At the risk of sounding like the pot telling his kettle chum that its attire needed a little more colour, this is unacceptable.

Shame on the Villager.

And to think there wasn't a WMD in sight.


THIS diarist came into work on Monday morning feeling particularly chipper after a good weekend of newspaper sales.

Copies of the Watford Observer, it was said, had been flying off news stands all over town.

"Unprecedented".

"Amazing".

"Outrageous".

"It must have been down to my cracking front page splash on the town's new flatpack' hospital", I obviously thought.

And then naturally: "Perhaps that means I'll be due for a tidy little bonus."

Alas, it seems I'll be sticking with my £500 Renault Clio with the leaky roof and drivers' door that doesn't close for a little while longer.

It transpires the real reason for the "great rush of 08", as it has now been dubbed, was in fact an offer of a dozen free doughnuts for every Watford Observer reader.

I don't know why I bother.


FREQUENT readers of the Diary may by now be aware of the friendly bouts of verbal sparring various diarists have had with Three Rivers District Councillor Kerron Cross over the years.

For the newbies among you this has, more often than not, revolved around the state of the self-proclaimed "voice of the delectable lefts" legs.

As bizarre as it sounds several diarists have mused publicly about how Kezza might fill a dress and what his pins will look like when he slips into a kilt for his wedding.

The all too predictable cycle then sees the political lefty issue a withering rebuke via his online blog, as happened last week after we printed a picture of Councillor Cross donned in formal Celtic attire (yes, we do actually read your blog Kerron).

Anyway this sorry tale has gone on long enough and it is my humble opinion that a line is now drawn underneath the grubby episode.

I am firmly of the opinion that the sight of Councillor Cross in a frock should be reserved only for the eyes of the future Mrs Kezza.

And seeing as we seemingly cannot resist printing pictures of the good councillor in a skirt, I am hereby appealing to Mr, sorry, Councillor Cross to stop teasing us with the damn things on his website.

Some decorum please councillor.

Anyway this diarist is off to check out the "Widdy Web" -- apparently Ann Widdecombe has uploaded a picture of her bottom.