For a Reporter’s Hide, or How We Let the Sleeping Dogs of TV Business Lie
In the last week, there’s hardly anyone in this country who hasn’t made his opinion known, at the very least through a ‘like’ or ‘dislike’ of others’ indignant comments on social media, on the case of the investigative reporter Dimitur Vurbanov from Masters of Broadcast.
The scandal with the fake assault against the wannabe journalist Dimitur blasted through media space like a kamikaze and shook the country to its core; it made its way to the TV screens of gramps and grannies in remote hamlets and got as far as the USA, where the PM Boyko Borisov was on a state visit.
Unlike the scope of damage inflicted by real suicide bombers though, the sole victim of this swindle was the kamikaze himself – Vurbanov. After the 48 hours of sorrowful indignation and loudly proclaimed sympathy for him, moods turned upside down at the drop of a hat.
The fatal blow was inflicted by the owners of a food warehouse, the main subjects of the reporter’s investigation. Their CCTV proved that he wasn’t beaten, wasn’t battered – instead, he came up with this amateurish fiction with elements of drama in order to dash the audience with his heroic willingness to sacrifice himself on the altar of truth.
“What a country – what a reporter!”, in the lingo of the Masters of Broadcast. This story is packed with potential for endless jokes and tongue-in-cheek intellectualism in the style of this show.
Anyway, enough triviality. On to the significant question: Is the kamikaze the only one responsible for the explosion? Is it acceptable for the show’s producers and the bosses of Nova TV, who let the ‘battered reporter’ parody get on air and blast into a major topic in the evening news, to get away with a mumbled, half-hearted apology?
Things only got worse with the Golden Skunk ‘awarded’ to Dimitur Vurbanov this Monday. Skunk or no skunk, the story already stunk to high heaven…
The conclusions are straightforward – for the old dogs sleeping in their snug TV offices, the hide of a reporter is enough to appease the viewing audience. Dimitur gone, problem gone. Quiet please, do not disturb their TV Highnesses, the pundits of TV-making and complicated journalistic investigations, whose work is pimped up by dancing girls and flat jokes by the Rachkov and Ignatova duo.
This is the grub fed to the TV audience – as long as we let sleeping dogs lie!