ABSTRACT
When the playwright Arnold Wesker spent several months at the offices of the Sunday Times, gathering background material for his drama The Journalists, he decided to produce an account of his observations. The resulting slim volume caused such offence to some of those he observed that its publication was held up for five years. This was his conclusion:
The journalist knows his world is among the least perfect of all imperfect worlds. Most are raring to get out and write books - the best of them do, frustrated by small canvases and the butterfly life of their hard earned thoughts and words.
