The History of the News

Of course, it came to a point when there simply was too much news. Daily newspapers doubled in size and were as thick as a James Joyce novel (not Portrait of an Artist, you smart Alec). Everyone agreed that with its increased size and weight the newspaper had become most unwieldy, as reading the news was practically a two-man job. Reading the paper on a train or bus was all but impossible unless you were sitting next to an accommodating stranger with whom you shared similar interests.
And nobody could finish an entire newspaper in a day. It took three or four days, minimum, and even the most voracious readers tended to be a few years behind in their understanding of current events. BBC’s Have I Got News For You prided itself on making topical quips that were no more than four years old, but unfortunately most of its viewers were grappling with even older news and thus couldn’t understand Ian Hislop’s witty topical wit. After a long period of steadily declining viewing figures the BBC decided to cancel Have I Got News For You and chose to replace it with a looped clip of Ian Hislop’s wrinkly old body dressed up in ladies clothes, doing the sort of dance a lady might do. Critical responses were, on the whole, positive about the change of programming, and most people agreed that this was secretly what they always wanted to see.
Some radical environmentalist whack-jobs started to worry about the mass deforestation taking place in order to print all of the news, and thought it especially awful considering everyone was pretty much in agreement that internet news websites killed significantly less trees. The environmentalists were very vocal about their opposition to all of the news, which ironically was in itself newsworthy and its estimated this news was responsible for the killing of a handful of trees, which technically speaking is about one tree, possibly less, depending on the size of the hand. They staged numerous protests, burning newspapers and using the fire to toast their marshmallows of environmental justice (which luckily were on offer in Tesco) and also to provide atmospheric lighting and warmth for their guitar-driven protest songs. Things reached something of a crisis point when the environmentalists decided to bomb large portions of the Amazonian rainforest that were being used for the news, causing devastating forest fires and pretty much wiping out what was remaining of the rainforest.
The evisceration of the rainforest created an irreconcilable paradox: the environmentalists had caused a catastrophe of profound topical importance, while simultaneously removing the resources available for printing a written account of their embarrassing blunder.
That is why the UN eventually decided to enforce a worldwide ban on all news. If a man so much as mentioned a topical event in a public place he was guilty of propagating news and could face up to eight years in prison. Of course nobody knew about the ban, seeing as it was in itself a piece of news, and thus people naively dealt out news left, right and centre. They would have been arrested if the police were informed of the news, but as it was the UN collectively decided that news of the ban must not leave the meeting room.
I imagine this will all be news to some of you, in which case I ask you to burn this or the computer on which you are reading this in order to protect your innocence.
If the communication of this news is impossible due to the criminality of sharing the news of the ban on news, is it not somewhat of a plot hole that I am able to relate to you this news?
To that question I answer this: no, you’re a plot hole.