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"Back in the far-distant past, say about 4pm yesterday, the latest news was incredibly valuable. Editors were shouting for it, writing cheques and begging reporters to bust a gut, lie, break a leg to get it. Organizations with hundreds of highly paid, sometimes even trained, people were scampering after it, elbowing one another aside. High in orbit over the earth, satellites were being used to pick it up and beam it on. Videophones, camera teams, surveillance vehicles, were bleeping, cursing, changing gear. Witnesses and experts were being called at work, or doorstepped at home. They were being bribed, bullied, flattered. This news, whatever it was - just a few words, perhaps ('the most shameful moment of my life' or 'we will resist with full force'), or an unexpected denial, or the first sight of a face presumed to be dead - was very valuable. Given the manpower expended and the technology, it was far more costly, ounce for ounce, than caviar or plutonium. But that was yesterday afternoon. Now has passed a whole day, and that news is old. Go away, old news. Don't bother me, yesterday's story. You're manky and dull."

[from Andrew Marr, "My Trade: A Short History of British Journalism", p58]

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