Welcome to what is the first post in a (hopeful) series focusing on a collective obsession in a world in which we’re more separated than ever. Month one, we’re diving into us falling in love with journalists.
Don’t pretend you can’t relate to this, this is a no-judgment, fully in love with journalists zone. You’ve been glued to American news stations for the best part of a week now. Through all waking hours, you’ve been watching these journalists tally up votes, speculate on what’s going to happen, and in special cases, absolute eviscerate President Trump and some of their guests.
Maybe two days in you start to look at them in a new light. Are they a little attractive? Or is it just lockdown 2.0 setting in and I’ve not seen a man who’s outside of my bubble, who isn’t shopping at ASDA, in who knows how long now? Was it the decisive point they just made, shutting down opposition and claiming things are looking good for Joe Biden?
Before you know it, you’re on Twitter reading everyone else’s thirst tweets about Jake Tapper, watching ‘fancams’ of him and watching him condemn President Trump’s speech full of amazing falsehoods – swoon.
We’re collectively going through this together. We know what follows a ‘Key Race Alert’ and us Brits are now sleep deprived from nights upon nights of waking up at bizarre hours of the night to tune in, and then getting up for work to do it all over again.