It happens at a lot of local newspapers: a crew gets in, three or four individuals with shared interests that come to dominate the powerful positions. Before you know it the whole organisation is overrun by the bullshit merchants, the greasy guff-peddlers – there's no getting rid of them. Frustration builds amongst the rest of the workforce until, one day, a junior staffer can't take it anymore. He's wild, popping off at anyone who wants some as he steams around the corridors of the marketing department. It's a bloodbath. Tezza, H-Money, Love Johnson: they're all gone. But it's not the end, the paper will come again. It always has done, and it always will do, it's just this time, it'll be structurally reorganised from top to bottom to better reflect its status as a representative of the thoughts and feelings of a two-club city, chico.
