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Fifteen minutes of expertise
The sniggers heard in the newsrooms of newspapers and magazines all across the world may have died down, but print journalists all over are still mighty tickled about the snafu that took place in the BBC News 24 studio this week.
The sniggers heard in the newsrooms of newspapers and magazines all across the world may have died down, but print journalists all over are still mighty tickled about the snafu that took place in the BBC News 24 studio this week. Guy Goma, a graduate from Congo thought he was being interviewed for a job as a data support cleanser. Instead, he unknowingly became an ambassador of Andy Warhol’s ‘15 minutes of fame’.
Okay, so it was for less than quarter of an hour that Mr Goma was questioned by the news anchor about what he thought of the Beatles’ Apple Corps. vs Apple computers case. Rather nervously, Mr Goma — who live on air was thought to be Guy Kewney, editor of Newswireless.net — answered that he was “very surprised to see this verdict to come on me (sic)”.
Being print media boffins ourselves, without the fame or fortune, not to mention the telegenic qualities associated with panel pundits on TV, it is downright low of us to keep chortling about the mix-up. But frankly, with ‘experts’ being ushered in and ushered out of TV news studios at a rate that would make the ponies on a merry-go-round feel dizzy, ‘experts’ are these days defined as those who come on TV — whether it’s a panel of pundits answering queries on the India-US nuclear deal or on celebrities and causes. Which is why even if Mr Goma wasn’t supposed to be there, by being there, he’s become an expert on trademark disputes. Strange how no one mistakes us for experts worthy of TV. Or maybe it’s not strange; it’s apt.
