The Amazing Jack Night and the Mystery of Danny Finkelstein's Cock
There has been considerable comment around the blogs of The Times's exposure of Night Jack's real identity: A Very British Dude has a pretty comprehensive roundup of those views, and his comment is pretty spot on.
Nightjack's blog was as successful as it was because he was an insider saying what the public already know: That the police have been given too much power and have been corrupted by the culture of targets. Every time a new-Labour home secretary suggested that the fall in crime was a success rather than an artifact of statistics, you could point to Nightjack's blog and say "you're talking rot, Home Secretary". There is clearly a public interest in allowing him to have his say, and the public interest is most definitely not being served by the Times' campaign to out prominent bloggers, nor is it by the deletion of an excellent blog, and it is increasingly looking like a dying industry destroying its competition.
Suffice to say, your humble Devil realises that we bloggers have no legal entitlement to anonymity and, indeed, I have not been particularly anonymous for some time now. However, in blogging circles, I prefer to be referred to as "DK" or "The Devil" or "Devil's Kitchen" rather than my real name because the manner in which this blog is written—and the selection of views covered therein—is hardly the complete version of me. It is, if you like, merely one aspect.
In any case, your humble Devil reveals enough to allow readers to judge whether or not I know what I am talking about, as did Jack Night—that blog could never have been written by someone who was not what he said he was.
But that is not enough for Times lapdog Danny fucking Finkelstein.
What, say, if it turned out that NightJack wasn't actually a detective at all? Or that he was Sir Ian Blair? Are we really saying that his identity isn't a public matter?
Look, Danny fucking Finkelstein—Jack Night was not Sir Ian Blair was he? And he was a detective, wasn't he? So, given that you found out that Jack Night was who he said he was, what possible justification could you have for publishing that information?
Danny is often known as "The Fink"; the name is pretty apt for, when your humble Devil was knee-high to a fire-breathing demon of Hell, "a fink" was a tattle-tale—someone dishonourable, disagreeable and generally slimy and unpleasant.
This dictionary defines "fink" as:
- A contemptible person.
- An informer.
- A hired strikebreaker.
This Fink is most definitely a contemptible person.
In fact, I have to confess to surprise at the attitude of some other bloggers. Most of the time, we promote the fearless revelation of truth and expose hypocrisy.
I'm sorry, Fink, but what is this "we", you fucking Johnny-Come-Lately? You're no blogger—you're a fucking MSM shill. You regurgitate whatever crap your employer wants you to post and, unlike most of us, your agenda is entirely hidden.
It's twats like you, Fink, who clog up the blogosphere, with your Establishment-sanctioned news-bites and your irritating "I'm a real journo" smugness.
You aren't a blogger—you are simply publishing pieces that would otherwise be published were it not for the fact that you employer doesn't value your snippet of writing or this particular piece of facile opinion enough to put them into the print edition.
And what "hypocrisy", exactly, was Jack Night indulging in that you and your odious colleagues saw fit to "expose" him? What "truth" has been revealed by publishing his name?
Tell me, Fink: when you get home at night and you look at yourself in the mirror—having just washed the taste of Rupert Murdoch's cum out of your mouth (but you can never quite eradicate it, can you, Fink?)—does a single little tear roll down your face? It should do.
Fink by name and fink by nature—that's our Danny.
Needless to say, your humble Devil is boycotting Times Comment Central (not that that's much of a hardship, frankly).