The Author Who Lived — Script (Unfiltered Edition)
The one that started the chaos. Words that didn’t need a microphone to sting.
“This is the episode that started the chaos.
I said words. The internet felt things.
Here’s the uncut and short version — the one that didn’t need a microphone to sting.”
🎙 INTRO — The Beginning of the Noise
Every revolution starts with someone opening their mouth.
Most of them should’ve kept it shut.
We talk too much.
Everyone’s got a microphone now — even me.
Don’t worry, I hate that as much as you do.
This isn’t a sermon.
It’s a conversation that got lost on its way to the pub.
I grew up believing words could fix things.
Then I got a job, met people, used Twitter — realised words mostly start fires.
So this podcast is me trying again.
To say something that still means something.
To see if honesty still has a pulse.
We say we value truth — until someone actually tells it.
Then it’s “tone it down, mate.”
Or worse — “that’s not very inclusive of you.”
Whatever the hell that means.
The word used to be sacred.
Now it’s PR.
Also, full disclosure — English isn’t my first language.
Sarcasm is.
So if you don’t get me, that’s on you.
Today we’re talking about the word —
the most dangerous thing you can hold without a licence.
A few letters, a bit of air, and suddenly you’ve lost your job.
Ask J.K. Rowling.
She pressed send — and half the planet lost its mind.
So yeah.
Welcome to Unfiltered Outsider.
Pull up a chair.
But don’t get too comfortable — I tend to bite.
🎙 PART I — We Talk Too Much
Everyone’s got something to say —
and most of it sounds like an ad for nothing.
The world used to have thinkers and doers.
Now we’ve got talkers and commenters.
And I’m both — which is tragic, really.
We’ve reached the point where silence feels illegal.
If you’re not posting, someone assumes you’ve died.
Even funerals have hashtags now.
“Rest in peace — link in bio.”
Remember when you’d keep a thought to yourself?
Yeah, that’s vintage behaviour now.
Voice notes. Bloody hell.
The modern love letter — 45 seconds of breathing and trauma, ending with “anyway, yeah.”
People don’t text anymore — they podcast at each other.
I’ve had shorter relationships than some of these voice notes.
The news used to tell you what happened.
Now it tells you who to hate about it.
It’s not journalism anymore — it’s mood management.
They don’t inform; they perform.
Every headline sounds like clickbait written by an intern on caffeine and despair.
And politicians? They talk like influencers now.
The only difference is ring lights —
and at least influencers admit they’re selling something.
Self-care has turned into a marketing strategy.
Nothing says “I’m healed” like a discount code.
And here I am — a man with a microphone complaining about how everyone talks too much.
The irony isn’t lost on me.
I just choose not to care.
Twitter — sorry, X — is basically a shouting competition where everyone’s holding mirrors.
Instagram’s just people “living their truth” from rented flats with perfect lighting.
TikTok’s nursery rhymes for adults.
Facebook’s the internet’s retirement home.
The truth is, none of us want silence anymore.
Silence means you might have to think.
And thinking’s exhausting.
🎙 PART II — The Author Who Lived (and Tweeted)
I remember the first time I opened a Harry Potter book.
That smell of paper and hope.
Back when stories still felt like magic instead of marketing.
She wrote about a boy who survived,
and somehow, we all decided that meant us.
We survived school.
We survived heartbreak.
We survived dial-up internet.
Her books made courage sound cool.
They made loyalty a personality trait.
They made kids read —
which, in the 90s, was basically witchcraft.
Then came the tweet.
Seven words.
One sarcastic joke about “people who menstruate.”
And suddenly — poof — twenty years of goodwill vanished like a Horcrux.
Half the world laughed.
The other half lit torches.
Publishers panicked.
Actors released statements.
Fans deleted tattoos like they were erasing evidence.
Bookshops hid her novels behind “safe literature.”
Which is peak irony — censoring the woman who literally wrote about censorship.
She stood her ground.
Refused to apologise for having an opinion.
And that, apparently, was the biggest crime of all.
Because the internet doesn’t want truth.
It wants spectacle.
It wants saints to worship and witches to burn.
And we feed it — every single day.
She gave us a boy who lived.
And somehow became the woman who did too.
🎙 OUTRO — Mischief Reborn
That’s probably enough honesty for one day.
My microphone’s tired, my coffee’s cold,
and somewhere out there someone’s already angry about something I said.
But that’s alright — outrage keeps the lights on.
Well… not mine, obviously. I pay for those.
Next week we’ll talk about the people who were born on level five
and still complain about the climb —
the privileged ones.
Until then —
stay loud, stay human,
and try not to cancel anyone before breakfast.
Uninfluenced. Unpaid. Unfiltered.
I’m Noah Jackman — and this is The Unfiltered Outsider.
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