There’s a story about Punch that, after the third edition in 1841,
someone wrote in complaining that the magazine wasn’t as funny as it
used to be.
And that’s been Punch’s problem throughout its troubled 150-year
life.
It carries so much historical criticism that anyone taking on the job of
editing the title is going to be instantly carped about before anyone’s
read a word.
Paul Spike, Punch’s new editor, knows this. He’s bringing in a series of
sweeping changes in the 21 May issue and is anxious to avoid all
preconceptions.
’Punch is probably one of the best-known titles in the world,’ he says,
somewhat ruefully. ’It carries untold baggage but that’s why we’re not
calling this a re-launch. September last year, when Punch came back to
life, was the re-launch. We won’t have a huge advertising and
promotional campaign. It’ll be a longer-term job.’
Even though he isn’t calling it a re-launch, that would be a pretty fair
description of what’s going on. From the week of 19 May, Punch changes
its publication day from Friday to Wednesday, its cover price from
pounds 1.75 to pounds 1 and its entire editorial philosophy from rather
crusty old title to investigative, satirical humour magazine.
’We’re dropping the cover price because pounds 1 is the kind of money
you’d spend if you were just passing a news-stand on your way to or from
work,’ says Spike. ’A Wednesday magazine is the kind of title that might
make it into the office to get passed around rather than just getting
taken home, as you would on Friday. We’re changing the editorial to make
it the kind of magazine that most dentists would have to think long and
hard about before putting in their waiting room.’
Spike’s used to writing the sort of stuff that scares dentists. He hit
the ground running in journalism while at Columbia University in the
late 1960s when he wrote for the Village Voice about the anti-war and
civil rights protests. This theme was to provide the inspiration for his
second novel, Photographs Of My Father, about the murder of his civil
rights activist father.
Not surprisingly, he is keen to move Punch away from its role as an
establishment journal.
’I want to make Punch funny and relevant,’ he says. ’It needs to get
closer to the satirical and investigative edge, much more than it ever
has this century. The magazine started out as a gadfly on the
establishment but it became so safe and humourless. We’ve got Dominic
Prince over from the Express to head up our investigative team. He’s the
man who broke all the Asil Nadir stories, and we want to break as many
stories as we can.’
Comparisons with Private Eye instantly spring to mind and Spike accepts
this. ’We all think Private Eye is a great magazine and we all read it
but we’re not trying to imitate it,’ he says. ’We think there’s room for
both of us. For one thing, we’ll be glossy and colour and we won’t be so
beholden to the world of newspapers.’
Of course, there’s one Punch tradition that Spike won’t be able to do
away with altogether. It’s only a matter of time before someone tells
him the magazine isn’t as funny as it used to be.
HIGHLIGHTS
1990: Restaurant critic, Vogue
1995: Editor, special projects Conde Nast
1997: Consultant editor, Punch
1997: Editor, Punch.
