WHEN a dismal 1970s English football team were knocked out in the early stages of the World Cup resulting in them failing to even qualify, Bernard Shrimsley, the then editor of The Sun' newspaper, decided subtlety was not called for.

He told his sub-editor to print The End of the World', across the front page. When the underling, raising concerns about readers of a nervous disposition, asked if this was wise move, the editor replied "You're right, let's put an exclamation mark at the end of it", adding "We don't have any readers of a nervous disposition".

A few years later, while in charge of the Sunday tabloid, the News of the World', the same Bernard Shrimsley sent one of his reporters off to an island in the Caribbean to take pictures of Princess Margaret and her new boyfriend, a tale which the other nationals had decided not to touch. "They were not very happy at the Palace", he recalls with a smile, after his full page splash broke the story.

Now living in Chiswick, where he has been settled for the last 10 years, Bernard Shrimsley has turned his talents to satirising the industry in which he has spent his professional life. His book The Silly Season' published last month, examines the world of red-top journalism, through the adventures of Jack Stack, the ruthless new editor of the middle market tabloid the Mercury'.

Stack is determined to send circulation through the roof through his own brand of sensationalism, sacking his top columnist in favour of a more "sexy and dazzling" version, as well as hounding the Royal family, and pushing around the PM.

Despite working in the heady atmosphere of Fleet Street for most of his professional life, amongst some of the most colourful characters of the time, Bernard says of his third novel: "It isn't a roman clef, where it's about real people with fictional names.

"It's all in my head. It's rather like a caricature, I've exaggerated the features."

So the scene at Jack Stack's first editorial meeting on the Mercury', when he gets personal calls from the PM and the Palace, wishing him good luck, is this an exaggeration?

"Politicians are politicians and part of their technique is to flatter people in the media", Bernard admits, "Yes, you may get a phone call from the PM or a letter from the Palace, but when you stop being an editor the calls stop coming.

"I think the press makes or breaks a politician, and usually does both. They build them up and knock them down, while the Royals used to have much more influence with the press than they do now. The press used to conspire to protect them."

The author and dedicated newspaper man, who still admits to being a "news junkie" at the age of 72, started at the very bottom of the industry, working as a messenger or "carrier pigeon" for the Press Association when he was 16 years old, just after World War II.

From there he went on to the Southport Guardian' and came under the direction of assistant editor, Walter Little, who eventually joined sister paper to the Times, the Richmond & Twickenham Times (which is name dropped in his latest book).

Bernard says the New Zealander was a great teacher: "He was absolutely brilliant. A master of the craft. I learnt more from him than anyone else."

After two years in the RAF, Bernard returned to the Guardian, then had stints at the Daily Mirror and Sunday Express, before his first editorialship for the Daily Post in Liverpool. Australian multimillionaire Rupert Murdoch then prised him away to join his new paper called The Sun', launched in 1969, which Bernard edited from 1972 to 1975.

Periods as editor of the News of the World' and the Mail on Sunday' then followed.

Bernard says working up from local titles is the best training in journalism, but admits his career path would be impossible now: "A school leaver at 16? They wouldn't even look at you, you wouldn't get an interview. There's a much better educated class of journalist now. But they have to be, because the readers are more educated."

He describes the business as cut throat: "I've always regarded myself as ambitious. For people who are ambitious you will enjoy it a lot more, and if you are not ambitious, you will get shoved off the escalator by someone who is. But the competition is what makes it worthwhile.

"News needs to be sensational, that's what it's all about. If you have flat stories, the public will be bored out of their minds. Just imagine the tabloids without any fun in them?"

On the new breed of editors, such as Piers Morgan at The Mirror', he disapproves of his high public profile, but adds: "He's original, brilliant and dangerous. An instinctive tabloid person."

On journalism in general, one aspect also rankles: "I don't like nudge, nudge, wink, wink journalism, or hint journalism. They write about it because everybody is talking about it, but the facts are the most important part of the story."

And as for working for newspaper barons like Murdoch, and Lord Rothermore at the Daily Express', he found the experience surprisingly agreeable.

His five year editorship at the News of the World' was one of the longest of anyone's at the paper, showing a good working relationship with the Australian: "I enjoyed working for him. He's a brilliant businessman, and no one has a better understanding of every aspect of publishing newspapers. I'd much rather work for a proprietor than a corporation."

Married to Norma "forever", with one daughter working as a freelance journalist, Bernard is a long way from the ruthless business inhabited by his creation Jack Stack, settled in his riverside home in Chiswick with "spiritually uplifting" views of the Thames.

But he still follows changes in the industry he loves, and is plotting a return for the fearless editor, if his first incarnation proves successful.

The Silly Season' by Bernard Shrimsley, is published by Robson Books, priced £16.95.