I know you have been fretting and at a loss as to where I have been for the last while but fear not I have returned and in my unfettered absence I have been a vacuum, absorbing information, anecdotes, facts, knowledge to bestow upon the world and amaze and astound you the reader. So sit back and be amazed, cajoled and dumbfounded as you take in the opinion of a man on the verge of greatness...
Well to let you into my world (for a change) it's been an eventful and uneventful last few months. I suppose the best place to start with these things is the start. As some of you may already be aware I have plans to be a big shot journalist (i'll prove you all wrong wait until you see), so with the help of a dear friend I packed my bags and set sail across the ocean to the maze of wonders that is London, where upon that dear friend had helped me gain a period of work experience with the Sunday Telegraph. After settling into to my accommodation on Old Street and a good nights rest I began my travails into the heady heights of international journalism.
Week 1
Day 1
Not too sure what to expect, I arrived at the offices and was greeted upon arrival by the lovely, kind and jovial Emma (who would turn out to be my go to if I was lost for my duration at the Telegraph, thank you Emma) and after a brief tour of the ultra modern centre that is the Telegraph offices I was assigned to my desk and quickly given a task: I was expected to find every Freedom of Information email address for every local council in England. Eeuuughhhh! I expected menial tasks like making tea perhaps, or being a gofor but this was quite possibly worse. How and ever, I put the head down and kept quiet, sticking steadfastly and passionately to my pursuit of these ever evasive addresses that only a top notch journalist like myself would only be able to unfurl and track down! You have to start somewhere,why not at the bottom. I was in the door at least.
Not too sure what to expect, I arrived at the offices and was greeted upon arrival by the lovely, kind and jovial Emma (who would turn out to be my go to if I was lost for my duration at the Telegraph, thank you Emma) and after a brief tour of the ultra modern centre that is the Telegraph offices I was assigned to my desk and quickly given a task: I was expected to find every Freedom of Information email address for every local council in England. Eeuuughhhh! I expected menial tasks like making tea perhaps, or being a gofor but this was quite possibly worse. How and ever, I put the head down and kept quiet, sticking steadfastly and passionately to my pursuit of these ever evasive addresses that only a top notch journalist like myself would only be able to unfurl and track down! You have to start somewhere,why not at the bottom. I was in the door at least.
Day 2
After familiarising myself with the tube route to Victoria, base camp for my foray into the world of journalism, I settled into day 2. A good half an hour early, I decided to do a bit of snooping around myself. It turned out that journalists don't seem to rise too early, I was in the minority with my presence and let me tell you this didn't exactly put me off being a journalist but probably endeared me that bit more. Organising myself at my desk the troops began to arrive. After largely being ignored the previous day, through no fault of their own, I began to generate a bit of interest with many of my "colleagues" as they began to wonder why this strange, moustachioed (it was not a fashion statement or experiment,I grew handlebars for charity, it certainly raised a few eyebrows) Irish man was sitting in their presence! I continued to dedicate all my energy and fervour into finding every address I could for the most part of the day and still I wasn't asked to make any tea or deliver anything. I began to feel a part of something big!
As the afternoon was drawing to a close and dusk was descending upon our incumbent souls I was approached by Ben Leapman, the deputy chief editor and a kind, intelligent unassuming man, to help the reporter that had been sitting behind me. Ben Leach. Finally a promotion, if you will indulge me. My task was to ring every Police Force in Britain and under the Freedom of Information Act obtain the figures for the amount of crimes that were "screened out"(that is crimes that were reported, minor crimes as such, but never investigated) for the previous year. Now upon review, I looked at this task as something of a challenge. It was a bit like the stripey Zebra being chased by the ravenous Lion or Tiger and deciding he'd had enough and turning around and politely saying to Mr. Lion or Tiger "lookey here Sir but I have had enough, fuck you, i'm going to chase you now". Arduous task. Once again better than making tea, in fact at this stage people were asking me would I like a cup of tea whilst they did the coffee run. I belonged.
After familiarising myself with the tube route to Victoria, base camp for my foray into the world of journalism, I settled into day 2. A good half an hour early, I decided to do a bit of snooping around myself. It turned out that journalists don't seem to rise too early, I was in the minority with my presence and let me tell you this didn't exactly put me off being a journalist but probably endeared me that bit more. Organising myself at my desk the troops began to arrive. After largely being ignored the previous day, through no fault of their own, I began to generate a bit of interest with many of my "colleagues" as they began to wonder why this strange, moustachioed (it was not a fashion statement or experiment,I grew handlebars for charity, it certainly raised a few eyebrows) Irish man was sitting in their presence! I continued to dedicate all my energy and fervour into finding every address I could for the most part of the day and still I wasn't asked to make any tea or deliver anything. I began to feel a part of something big!
As the afternoon was drawing to a close and dusk was descending upon our incumbent souls I was approached by Ben Leapman, the deputy chief editor and a kind, intelligent unassuming man, to help the reporter that had been sitting behind me. Ben Leach. Finally a promotion, if you will indulge me. My task was to ring every Police Force in Britain and under the Freedom of Information Act obtain the figures for the amount of crimes that were "screened out"(that is crimes that were reported, minor crimes as such, but never investigated) for the previous year. Now upon review, I looked at this task as something of a challenge. It was a bit like the stripey Zebra being chased by the ravenous Lion or Tiger and deciding he'd had enough and turning around and politely saying to Mr. Lion or Tiger "lookey here Sir but I have had enough, fuck you, i'm going to chase you now". Arduous task. Once again better than making tea, in fact at this stage people were asking me would I like a cup of tea whilst they did the coffee run. I belonged.
Day 3 and 4
The next two days consisted of making the phone an extension of my ear/face. I was ringing one Police Force who would be uncooperative and then waiting for their reply, while ringing others who would be uncooperative, while receiving the aforementioned replies and so on and so forth. Merry go rounds would not have had a patch on proceedings at the Telegraph desk of John Fagan over those couple of days. Figures eventually started flooding in and by Friday evening around 7 or so we had enough statistics to run with a story for Sunday's paper. And a published article for the little moustachioed Paddy from Navan in the Telegraph,quite unexpected!
The next two days consisted of making the phone an extension of my ear/face. I was ringing one Police Force who would be uncooperative and then waiting for their reply, while ringing others who would be uncooperative, while receiving the aforementioned replies and so on and so forth. Merry go rounds would not have had a patch on proceedings at the Telegraph desk of John Fagan over those couple of days. Figures eventually started flooding in and by Friday evening around 7 or so we had enough statistics to run with a story for Sunday's paper. And a published article for the little moustachioed Paddy from Navan in the Telegraph,quite unexpected!
Day 5
The most interesting day of them all was the final day of the week. Although I had nothing of note to partake in on this particular day as I had already put in the ground work, I just sat back and took proceedings in. People scurrying to and fro. First draft, second draft, "Is this ok", "will we run with this headline or this headline", "cut that out", "what do you think John" (got you there, John happens to be quite a common name, it wasn't me). To just sit back and watch the hustle and bustle of headline day in a big paper was simply poetry in motion. You could have written a musical piece to the to and fro of everybody. First week done and dusted, article under my belt, smile on my face, time to embrace the social side of London with my partners in crime Doni and Abi! And two better partners to plunder the social treasures of London I could not have asked for!
The most interesting day of them all was the final day of the week. Although I had nothing of note to partake in on this particular day as I had already put in the ground work, I just sat back and took proceedings in. People scurrying to and fro. First draft, second draft, "Is this ok", "will we run with this headline or this headline", "cut that out", "what do you think John" (got you there, John happens to be quite a common name, it wasn't me). To just sit back and watch the hustle and bustle of headline day in a big paper was simply poetry in motion. You could have written a musical piece to the to and fro of everybody. First week done and dusted, article under my belt, smile on my face, time to embrace the social side of London with my partners in crime Doni and Abi! And two better partners to plunder the social treasures of London I could not have asked for!
Week 2
After enduring the social heights of London and coming out the other side, a little worse for wear mind you, week 2 began. Same desk, same menial task again. This time I didn't seem to have the same enthusiasm as I did the week previous in my pursuit of FOI addresses but nonetheless I persisted. This occupied me for the best part of 3 days but upon completion I was in danger of being dropped from the team. I was fading into the background.
That Thursday evening, Robert Mendick, an investigative reporter,called upon my services. Investigating being the nature of his job he needed implements to assist him in his trickery and deception. To go undercover, one must become someone else whether it be disguise or another identity it would never be wise to use your own identity! So,with this in mind, I was sent out the next day to scour the streets of London for a spy camera. Following directions I ended up in a murky loft apartment somewhere along the banks of the river Thames and after completing a few circles lo and behold they had a spy camera, among several other gadgets. Unfortunately, even as the young man that I am, I have a propensity to be of the non-technological variety so nothing looked familiar. I may as well have been on the deck of a star trooper spaceship for all I knew. With that in hand I made my way back to Victoria, my lair for the week, and handed the merchandise over to Mr. Mendick, who wanted the camera to spy on some bogus Scandinavian doctor. I never did figure out whether that was a success or not.
That Thursday evening, Robert Mendick, an investigative reporter,called upon my services. Investigating being the nature of his job he needed implements to assist him in his trickery and deception. To go undercover, one must become someone else whether it be disguise or another identity it would never be wise to use your own identity! So,with this in mind, I was sent out the next day to scour the streets of London for a spy camera. Following directions I ended up in a murky loft apartment somewhere along the banks of the river Thames and after completing a few circles lo and behold they had a spy camera, among several other gadgets. Unfortunately, even as the young man that I am, I have a propensity to be of the non-technological variety so nothing looked familiar. I may as well have been on the deck of a star trooper spaceship for all I knew. With that in hand I made my way back to Victoria, my lair for the week, and handed the merchandise over to Mr. Mendick, who wanted the camera to spy on some bogus Scandinavian doctor. I never did figure out whether that was a success or not.
How and ever, to buck the trend of a quite week, Ben Leach, the reporter I worked in conjunction with the previous week, approached me with an interesting task. Admittedly when I was asked first to do this job I was a bit taken a back, intrigued and apprehensive at the same time. The job was to arrange a meet with a man who dealt in mephodrone and to buy a 5 gram quantity off him, a legal high of sorts. I had a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach when asked to do this but it was exciting and just what I had been looking for and what most students on work experience would kill for. This drug was a product of the legal high trade in the UK but was highly dangerous and had been at the centre of a recent controversy in which a young girl died directly as a consequence of consuming this drug. A "designer drug" which was advertised as plant growth but was sold for human consumption which was highly illegal. Anyway, I arranged to meet this man at a tube station in West London the following morning where I would buy the drug whilst a photographer would be hiding in the bushes and a reporter waiting in the wings to confront the dealer once the transaction had been completed.
I arrived at the station,everybody got into position and I called my "dealer" to come meet me. I waited for what seemed an eternity but it could not have been more than five minutes when he arrived. Everything went off without a hitch and we ended up getting more than we bargained for,with the rather dimwitted dealer granting us a forty minute interview in which he revealed everything about his operation and the twenty five grand he was making a week and how he was just out of prison for dealing class A. I don't think I will ever encounter such luck again.
All in all a fantastic experience and I would love to make a home of London at some stage in my life, for a while at least. I also hope this will not be the last of my journalistic experiences in that capacity. Fingers crossed! Thanks to all at the Sunday Telegraph for their hospitality, guidance, help and patience in particular Jasper, the two Ben's, Leapman and Leach, James Hall, Aleeda and in particular Emma and my dear friend and most importantly, Abi, for everything!
Links to my published articles below:
I arrived at the station,everybody got into position and I called my "dealer" to come meet me. I waited for what seemed an eternity but it could not have been more than five minutes when he arrived. Everything went off without a hitch and we ended up getting more than we bargained for,with the rather dimwitted dealer granting us a forty minute interview in which he revealed everything about his operation and the twenty five grand he was making a week and how he was just out of prison for dealing class A. I don't think I will ever encounter such luck again.
All in all a fantastic experience and I would love to make a home of London at some stage in my life, for a while at least. I also hope this will not be the last of my journalistic experiences in that capacity. Fingers crossed! Thanks to all at the Sunday Telegraph for their hospitality, guidance, help and patience in particular Jasper, the two Ben's, Leapman and Leach, James Hall, Aleeda and in particular Emma and my dear friend and most importantly, Abi, for everything!
Links to my published articles below:
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