A collection of stories from the Sport‘s website
Ah, the Sport – not so much a paper as a weekly nightmare of kitchen sink psychedelia. It’s sort of your classic British tabloid, but edited by Terry Gilliam, Irvine Welsh and the Chapman Brothers, and freed from any constraints of facts or taste. People who actually buy the Sport are semi-mythical creatures. Few now living have ever seen one, but all the clues suggest the paper’s average reader is most likely to be found slumped over the dashboard of his articulated lorry, wanking himself into a coma over yet another photoshopped nip-slip from someone who was in Corrie 12 years ago, his tinfoil helmet stopping the government’s radars from stealing his thoughts. In fact, a tinfoil helmet splattered with truckers’ jizz is pretty much the crest the Sport should print above its masthead.
Videos by VICE
Sadly, the Daily Sport flew off to heaven in 2011, but the Sunday edition still limps along, servicing the last few people in Britain who can’t find the “mucky pictures” button on the internet. But in a perverse turn of events, its “web presence” has never been better. Granted, you’d imagine not that many people are actually visiting its very, very strange website but it seems that every week screengrabs of the Sport‘s outrageous stories are “going viral” on Facebook and Twitter. Even if you’d probably assume that no one working for the Sport actually knows what “going viral” means.
But is this what we should assume? After all, the majority of people re-posting the paper’s stories seem to believe that they are absolutely, 100 percent true. Is the Sport on a massive wind-up? Is it basically now just the Onion for wanking British lorry drivers, run by a gang of satirical geniuses? And if its stories are made-up, how does the Sport get by without people regularly coming along to sue the pants off of it? There are people pictured in its articles. Who are they? And where do they get their names from? Do they just make them up? Is that it?
I sat down with the hardest-working man in showbiz – VICE’s lawyer, Korieh Duodu – to try to find out.
*Korieh has asked us to point out that, because of “ethics” or some shit, he can’t speculate on the legal advice the Sport receives, or the raw legality of each article. Rather than judgements, his comments are general explanations of the law.
The Story: One of Britain’s first gay weddings has apparently taken place between a heavily tatted muggy-man, and his victim, an effete middle-class homosexual. According to the Sport, it was love at first mug. And we certainly have no reason to disbelieve them.
VICE: I’ve done some research for once, and it seems the two people pictured aren’t actually findable on Google. So I would like to suggest that perhaps these people are made up? What’s the legality of using a photo of two people and attaching it to a made-up story presented, however loosely, as fact?
Korieh: As a lawyer, I can’t speculate on whether the story is fictitious or not. It may be that this is a real story and the people involved told the newspaper they wanted to use fictitious names. In which case, the fact that they aren’t traceable by searching would be easily explained. The photo could be posed by models.
But if they just found the picture on Getty Images, bought it legally, but worked it into this weird context, then could these two photo subjects sue?
If a newspaper takes two people’s photo and uses it to concoct a defamatory story around, then yes, those people can sue. But I would doubt very much whether that is what they have done. I would imagine that they have extracted specific consent from the photo subjects if they wanted to publish something like this.
Our Verdict: Perfectly legal and not in any way false, even if it might seem like the Sport are using the pictures of out-of-work character actors from fourth-tier ITV dramas.
The Story: Ten years ago, a man won seven million quid on the lottery. Which was nice for a while, until he blew it all on girls and gak. Now penniless and homeless, speaking exclusively to the Sport, he recounts the details of how he was forced to suck off his pet dog Cameron in order to secure a few Quavers from passing youths.
VICE: What about this poor guy? Again, despite him apparently winning a full seven million quid ten years ago, Google’s not giving me anything.
Korieh: Well, if the guy photographed is a real-life homeless person innocently sat on the street begging, an allegation of bestiality could be very seriously defamatory. But that’s very unlikely. The likelihood is that they’ve asked him to consent to it. Money may have changed hands for the right to use his image in a certain way.
Would it matter if they’d got his photo and paid him for it, then altered the context in which they used the photo? For instance, they told him it was a story about him eating his dog, but then they went for the sucking-off angle?
That would definitely matter. You have to obtain “informed consent”. Take your girls on their three-way Smeeting date, who ended up being pixellated in the final piece even though you’d pre-arranged to take photos.
I’d rather not.
If they’d agreed to go on a date, and assumed that it would be with like-minded guys, and they get there and there’s a goth and Mr Christmas, then they might say that even though they’d consented to be photographed on that date, the consent is now void. And publishing a story about someone out on a date is a potential infringement of their privacy, which is why consent is important.
The language used here is pretty blue, isn’t it? What’s the general deal with talking about sucking off a dog in a national newspaper?
There’s an Obscene Publications Act in England and Wales. That has certain rules about what is permissible to sell to the public in a national newspaper. The test is whether the publication “is likely to corrupt or deprave a section of the public”.
That’s pretty antiquated.
It is. The law is mainly used for prosecuting offences concerning child pornography and such material. As regards soft porn, the reality is there are very few cases brought in relation to stuff published in a national newspaper. After all, for a long time there have been publications that talk about these things, so it would be difficult to point to it “corrupting or depraving” when it is already out there. Don’t forget, we had Rebecca Loos on TV not so long ago pleasuring a pig – deemed by Ofcom not to be in breach of its taste and decency regulations. Britain is fairly liberal in these matters.
Our verdict: Perfectly legal and not in any way false, even if this story might get you wondering about how easy it would be to find a professional actor, ex-RADA, who specialises in harrowing portrayals of a homeless man who has been forced to suck off a dog.
The Story: In a nod to the complex and volatile Ukrainian situation, there’s a male stripper who’s stacking cash ‘cos he looks exactly like Vlad Putin.
VICE: I can’t help but notice a very exact resemblance to Mr Putin in this photo. This makes me suspect that possibly this story is 100 percent lies. But what if the Sport had taken the story of someone very similar – that they’d heard someone tell them about a man who looked a lot like a famous guy and worked as a male stripper – then fictionalised it? Occasionally, people sue filmmakers for having ripped off their heart-warming life story, or whatever. Could that happen here?
Korieh: It’s a very big hypothetical. Especially as in English law, technically, there is no copyright in an idea. You make an adaptation, and you can get away with it. But there would be a line to be crossed if in so doing you were defaming someone. For instance, a former client of mine was a film producer, and someone wrote a novel in which he literally swapped the first letters of this guy’s names, and then fictionalised a story in which the producer was supposed to have murdered someone else. Needless to say, my client won some quite hefty damages. The book was pulped.
Our verdict: Perfectly legal and not in any way false. Although you’d imagine that even in the unlikely event it were false, Putin would currently have bigger fish to fry.
The Story: Barmy EU legislators aren’t content with forming a ropey monetary union between states with different fiscal policies to shore up German exports against the strong Deutschmark and artificially lower interest rates at the periphery. No – they want Rose West to form a banjo duo with Levi Bellfield now! Apparently, Europe has upheld prisoners’ right to creative expression, the fuckpigs. Which, the Sport points out, could lead to Britain’s worst murderers forming a folk group.
VICE: Actually, this seems to be fact-based. Except that there is an absolutely creaking emphasis on the word “could” here. They “could” form a folk group… except that a hundred other laws would explain instantly why they can’t. So might it be possible for the EU to launch a claim against the Sport for misrepresentation and/or defamation? It is, after all, alleging that serial killers will be playing bongos together because of EU legislation. Quite damaging to them, you’d imagine?
Korieh: No. Under English law a public body like the EU can’t sue for defamation. There is a public policy in allowing robust (and even false) criticism of town councils and other public bodies. The idea is that it is better to allow free expression over such institutions than to enable them to sue to protect their reputations.
Our verdict: Again, perfectly legal and not in any way false.
The Story: Yer usual Jim Madeupname bloke goes into Greggs with the intent of making sweet love to a pasty in the privacy of his own kitchenette. He puts it in the microwave. Sticks his knob in it. And what do you know – he burns his bleedin’ bellend! Well that’s no bloody good, is it? A non-working dong from a 99p snack? Greggs are shit, and he’s going to tell the world.
VICE: So they’ve finally done it. The Sport have named a large high street pasty corporation in one of their little cock ‘n’ bull stories, and now whenever I think of their big blue and orange signs, I think of foreskin blistering inside steaming clouds of fats. Surely, this is some kind of libel or brand damage thing for Greggs? They can sue, right? For lots of money?
Korieh: No, I don’t think a company would have any complaint since his actions are bonkers and no one would think the less of the company for serving piping hot pasties. Perhaps they could complain if there was any suggestion they do not warn people their pasties are hot, but there isn’t.
So you don’t think any other legal issues arise here?
No.
Seriously?
Not unless this guy is unfortunate enough to have consented to a story about how much he loves pasties, only for him to be spun into a pasty-fiddler. But even then, we have a threshold of seriousness for defamation claims, under the Defamation Act 2013 that came into force at the beginning of this year. You can have a claim thrown out if it does not cause “serious harm” to the person’s reputation.
Our Verdict: Perfectly legal and not in any way false. Also, always wear a condom when fucking a pasty.
The Story: The Sport’s most famous article ever – World War Two Bomber Found On Moon – is lovingly homaged in this touching tribute to the victims of the Malaysian plane disaster. A man from the patently non-existent “University Of West Lancs” is found to tell us that in his fictitious opinion, the plane is definitely on the moon. Which would explain a lot of things.
VICE: Okay. Well what is the basic legality of just making stuff up? Is there no basic duty on a newspaper not to say that something is on the moon when it isn’t?
Korieh: It depends. If you simply make up a fact, such as “Malaysian aeroplane found on the moon” – is there a legal issue there? Probably not. The National Enquirer has been doing that for years. Remember that while the public is misled, in order for something to be actionable in law, it has to result in damage to an individual or a company. If you’re not damaging someone, then you can pretty much do what you like. Of course there are public order laws, incitement laws and other restrictions on material that might cause panic, riot, or other genuine harm to society. If the Malaysian disaster was closer to home, or something like Hillsborough was trivialised in an English newspaper story, that might be a different matter.
It is also worth bearing in mind that the Press Complaints Commission (or whatever succeeds it) has an accuracy code, and inaccurate stories can be punished by the regulator of the media. But in terms of the law – a legal claim – that’s different, and no, I don’t think you could.
What about if the readers of the Sport got together and filed some kind of class action suit – on the basis that they had been deceived into believing that these stories were true?
It’s very unlikely that a class action over a newspaper article can succeed. Primarily because in order to bring a claim, you would need to show you had a legal relationship with the newspaper and that some harm had been done. Would you say it’s a breach of contract? That would imply that truthfulness in news was part of what you thought you were buying when you bought the Sport. But the Sport would say that you wouldn’t have any expectation of truthfulness. You’d expect to be entertained. Also, in a breach of contract you’d have to be able to show that you’d suffered some loss. And it’s a pretty trivial claim if you’re claiming the pound a day you spent buying the paper.
If you wanted to show negligence, well, is there a duty of care between a newspaper and its readers?
It is one thing to sue a sat nav company for sending you over a cliff. It is another to sue a newspaper because you believed something you read in there. It would be an interesting case, though!
Our verdict: The Sport is the Onion for wanking British lorry drivers, run by a gang of satirical geniuses, with the help of a very skilled and tired lawyer.
This article was edited at 11.06AM on Wednesday, 16th April to reflect the fact the Daily Sport closed in 2011, not 2009.
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The Sunday Sport’s Website Is Really Weird
