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I can honestly say that I have some real experience with today's subject. I've worked for more than one, so please don't doubt my knowledge. You don't doubt the fruit and veg knowledge of the cucumber brained checkout assistant in Sainsbury's, so please do me the same courtesy. Or I'll bash you.

So which paper do you read? I'm torn about whether to let everyone know which daily I go for, in case I'm branded a fascist.

Ah. Oh dear.

I've given it away with that sentence haven't I? Yes, I read the Mail, and before you ask; no, I am not a fascist. I even think human rights are a good thing, I don't want to send them all back and I'm not in a state of constant fear, as so many of my fellow Mailists seem to be. I'd worry that the leftie portion of my readers are going to collectively turn their oh so hairy, Guardian reading noses up at me in future, but the thought of a few hundred, hairy legged feminist commies deciding to get a bit of culture somewhere else doesn't scare me overly.

At the same time I'm torn. Yes, I vote Tory. Yes, I'm a bit old school, but no, I'm not really that bad as a person. I'm not horribly stuffy and I like a beer as much as the average Daily Star reader. I even have a tattoo. Two as it happens. Tattwo.

Now should I be ashamed of myself? I like Britain being vastly British. It's called Britain' after all. I fear that some people are under the impression that the new name for the nation is the UKAATP. The United Kingdom and all those Polskis.

I really did try and be left wing. When I was in year 10, I joined some form of Young Socialists party or another. I bought a t-shirt with Old Mr. Guevara's head on and I wore clothes several sizes too big for me. And a balaclava helmet. But then I'm afraid I got a bit older and fancied a shave and a shower, something a lot of Guardian readers could perhaps look into. You could also buy some shoes that aren't sandals or Wellingtons. I know, I know Wellington's are good for all of your nature walks, but really they just don't look great in Hoxton High Street.

I find a good middle ground with papers is the Observer. Here we find immigrant hating fascists and beardy Lefties living in relative harmony, like the Animals in Farthing Wood (Guess who grew up in the 90's?) I wonder what their offices must be like. Then we have that paltry excuse for a newspaper, The Sun. Along with the News of the World, and the Mirror. These makes perfectly reasonable bin liners, but might I suggest you avoid reading anything they print?

We then have the Star which is the naughty schoolboy of the newspaper world. I'm sorry Sir, I won't do it again sir, bigger boys made me publish those blatant lies sir.' At this point, notice my complete ignorance in regards to the Telegraph. But I ignore it in print the same way I ignore it in Daily life. The Telegraph is for a special breed of human known as Numpties', the same way the Daily sport (Or the Daily Topless adolescent as I like to call it) is reserved for burly builders from Birmingham.

Finally I'm drawn into the world of the regional papers, full of stories related to local in breeding (I live in Somerset) and have a go heroes. But if you want real news instead of My 2 year old poodle dragged my baby out of a burning building, whilst playing Beethoven's 2nd, using only a broom' then you're out of luck.

I fear the column must be cut short today, as I've alienated enough readers already, so before I dig myself into a deeper hole, I'll sign off.

And for the record, I only get the Mail as it has the best crossword. ( 2. Down-An unwashed beardy man in a cagoule'-Reader of the Guardian)

Learn more about this author, Robin White.
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