Right Wing Unrelenting: You'd have to be a South African coke fiend to legitimately hold some of the opinions these guys do, and I have a sneaking suspicion they actually write their hard-edge drivel so normal people like us can have their blood angried up. There's an almost parodic element to the work - surely no-one with the intelligence to shit out a column every day or so could support a government so unequivocally...

Left Wing Fanatic: If the Right Wing Unrelenting are the enemy, then this is the ally. I guess. It's a tough job, trying to mount a defence against right wing platforms when your only source of journalistic integrity's currently arguing that his parents should legally own the TV they hired from Radio Rentals three years ago, that no-one should look at women as sexual beings, and the sooner we return to a centralised, agrarian state, the better. People aren't gonna get behind that, dude.

Wolf In Sheep's Clothing: The fancy name for a false moderate - the kind of journo whose column you nod along with, thinking they're making sense of the world in which we live, and then BAM! Suddenly they're advocating the death penalty for civil disobedience and outlining a plan in which all junkies are bussed out to central Australia to fend for themselves.

Men Are From Mars, My Kitten's From Venus *meow*: Where's the justice in a world that allows people to earn a comfortable living from masturbation? I'm not talking about those hot, pnuematic porn stars who put on a show for the discerning gentleman. Cutesy tales of suburban homeliness wrought by men and women with the chutzpah to think anyone wants to hear about their mundane lives and the clever nickname they have for their spouse, are a blight upon the media that should be stamped out. If I wanted to hear about some middle-class bint's child eating crayons and learning about life, I'd go back to lurking at Thirroul Neighbourhood Centre.

The Fun-loving, Fashion-Wearing, Man-Troubled, "You Think You Have Weight Issues - Listen To My Latest Story About Trying To Cram Into A Pair Of ‘Skinny Jeans' But In The End We All Love Ourselves And Would Never Want To Be Kate Moss, Isn't That Right Girls?" Columnist: Fuck Ralph Lauren, fuck Desperate Housewives and fuck you.

Mainstream "Humour" Guy: Tired jokes, hyperbole and bad writing disguised as outrageous opinion, these columnists generally fall into one of two camps. The first tells wild and woolly yarns of his or her youth then, as the well runs dry, tries instead to find inspiration from their current lifestyle. Which, since they're a comfortable soft journo, isn't likely to be all that interesting. Of course, they can always write about their new kitten or how the wife doesn't get it. The other type's a wannabe reviewer, but prefer to take the lazy way out and mock everything they encounter. Not in a clever way, either.

Reviewers (all of 'em): Writers who get up in the morning, crack their knuckles as they fire up the old computer, then commence a profitable day of whinging about a bunch of free shit they've been given. Like child-kings, the longer they've been at it, the worse they become.

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