LLANTILIO Pertholey school pupils were given an access all areas tour of the Abergavenny Chronicle offices in Nevill Street earlier this week.

The budding young reporters hit the hottest news hub in town to learn about the blood, sweat and headaches which go into crafting and compiling a weekly broadsheet.

The enthusiastic news hounds were shown how a newspaper page is put together and learned the subtle but important differences between hard news, features, sports reports and opinion pieces.

The burgeoning hacks learned all about the history of the fourth estate, or as most people know it, the press, and were interested to learn that print media had survived the ravages of radio and the tyranny of TV before going toe to toe with it fiercest and most formidable opponent to date - the world wide web!

Upon visiting the Chronicle’s archive the pupils were left pondering the myriad differences between a newspaper from 1873 and one fresh off the press.

The children then took a brief detour through the Chronicle’s advertising department to learn how revenue for the newspaper is generated, and then it was back to the board room for a brief question and answer session.

The young journos certainly earned their stripes with a whole host of probing questions which left the Chronicle collectively shattered.

“Is it called news because it’s alway new?” Asked one perceptive young chap.

“Why does this place smell of doughnuts?” Cried an earnest young lady.

“Are you always bored in the board room?” Demanded one young wit. And yet another pointed to a picture of Prince Charles visiting Abergavenny’s Baker Street Cinema and hollered, “Look they’ve got Donald Trump on their wall!” “Don’t be silly,” replied his dismayed mate, “It’s the Queen’s husband.”

It was then a case of out of the shadows and into the sun as the tour party ventured into the Chronicle gardens for a souvenir snap.

Squinting in the sun and trying their hardest not to look at the camera, the children were beseeched to look at the lens with this old chestnut, “First one to look at the photographer gets a fiver.”

As one their heads turned to the snapper. Job done. With goodie bags in hand and a rudimentary understating of the myriad mysteries of the press, the children departed. On the whole happy, but for one lone lad who scowled upon leaving and said, “I looked at the camera first and I never got any money.”

And herein lies the first and perhaps most important lesson to be learned from such a visit - never trust a reporter!