They can turn the buildings of Fleet Street over to squatters.
They can raze Wapping to the ground and, if they like, put up a parking lot.
They can tear down the paper columns, screw the rags into balls and hurl them.
They can pulp all the newsprint and smash down the presses.
They can scrape the news from the paper and empty the magazines.
They can put an immediate end to the four-colour process and allow the ink to drain away.
They can make CMYK lose its meaning.
They can crush the puppets underfoot, banish the dancers, and drive out the street players.
They can silence the singers of the hand-me-down songs and the makers of the lore-relating music.
They can put torches to the theatres and have no more of their social commenting and politicking.
They can wish to alter the way of the daily cryptic clue commute and discontinue the Sunday morning supplement.
They can consign the DPS to history, and the full page, and the 25 by 4.
They can give the old commercial broadcasts thirty seconds either to get out of here or switch to Channel Click.
They can cut off the heads of the moguls and stick them on top of the BT Tower.
They can make media social.
They can itty-bitty digital it.
But creatively, from what I can see, they can't make it any good.
