TIMING is everything, as they say.
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In the media, it’s nearly (actually, always) about bad timing.
And for people having police knocking at their door, well, no time is ever the right time.
If you’re not sure where this is leading, stay with me.
First, the media.
Out of the blue, social media giant Facebook spat its digital dummy right across the room when faced with Canberra planning laws to make it actually pay for something — possibly for the first time since a pre-pubescent Mark Zuckerberg first tapped a keyboard.
His mature response was to pull the plug — literally — on all Australian media (and that’s overlooking the collateral damage).
Which basically meant we had a lot of news you wanted/needed to know — and we couldn’t tell you.
No-one could.
The Riv, along with every other news organisation in the country, tried everything possible to encourage readers to keep viewing our content online.
We ramped up Twitter, discounted our digital subscription and even posted on our private Facebook accounts, encouraging people to go directly to the Riv website.
So, have a guess what happens when we’re not in people’s newsfeeds anymore?
Of course, we knew it was just a matter of time before Facebook and the feds would strike a deal, but we just hoped there wouldn’t be any shocking or extraordinary news that broke during that period.
You know. The type of news that goes viral thanks to the beauty of social media.
Well, let’s get back to timing, the start of this story and Monday afternoon — when I was called to a block of flats in Ogilvie Ave for what appeared to be a simple rescue.
And it was so not.
Turns out, the police — in executing an arrest warrant — had gone knocking on the door of a flat where they believed a wanted man could be found.
And he was.
««Found.
In flagrante delicto.»»
Leading to coitus interruptus (or so I was told).
Next thing the police know is a naked man has raced through the house, out the door and up onto the roof.
Naked (in case you missed it). Yep. Completely starkers.
Witnesses say he was like “Spiderman” jumping from one roof to the next.
But then it was a case of one roof too far — he didn’t land, he crash-landed; one leg going straight through the roof tiles, then the ceiling, and stopping him dead in his tracks.
Forget bad timing, this was bad everything. Bad karma, bad luck, bad day out and very badly scratched/cut up.
Not to mention the next two rather humiliating hours of sitting on a hot tile (lucky it wasn’t tin) roof while the police, CFA and ambulances, all with lights flashing, ensured a goodly crowd gathered for the entertainment.
In the end, Spiderman, by then known as Splatterman and sunburnt a very vicious shade of vermilion, was evacuated from the rooftop by a CFA cherry picker — but only after donning a pair of undies and handcuffs.
Seriously, you couldn’t come up with a story like this if you tried.
It would have killed on social media.
Especially with our brilliant ‘Sometimes you just have to grimace and bare it’ headline.
Now we could have gone all out with a fun bit of wordplay: Balls on a boom, Tackle on the tiles, Double-storey donga, Penis on a parapet or Arse on the attic — but we’re not the NT News.
Anyhoo, timing was sadly against us; and social media — and you — missed out on a good yarn.
And had the story ended up on Facebook, I’m sure it could have ended up as viewing pleasure for Mr Zuckerberg himself.
Although he might have been too busy trying to save face on the global stage after his tantrum echoed around the world.
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