COMPETITION among national newspapers has led to some very peculiar developments in British journalism, but there has been nothing quite so startling and, indeed, so dangerous, as the new sentimental style. We are proud of our Press. Like our police force, it is the finest in the world, and nobody knows that better than the Press itself. We are frequently reminded that the Press of Italy, Germany and Russia is enslaved, and that the Press of France and the United States is free but licentious. Our Press is not enslaved, nor is it licentious, nor is it corrupt. These are weighty recommendations, but they are negative and they are not enough. We should begin to realise that our popular Press is becoming quite startlingly silly.
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