Poor Rupert Murdoch. As I watched his evidence today, it became obvious that this man of eighty has been the victim of appalling elder abuse at the hands of his family, his employees and his friends.
Nobody told old Rupert that his reporters were committing crimes left, right and centre. Nobody told him about police investigations. Nobody saw fit to tell him about court cases involving his senior editorial staff. Nobody told him about phone hacking.
Not his son. Not the darling girl he regards as another daughter, much to the rage of his real daughter. Not his editors, for although we hear he might easily phone them three times a day, we now learn from Rupert that they only chatted about sports coverage or maybe about how much news there is this week.
G’day, Andy, he used to say. This is old uncle Rupert callin’ ya from Oz. Howya doin’, cobber?
Hello Rupert. And how are we today? I hope you’ve taken your medication. You know how angry Nurse gets when we forget our pills.
So, Andy. I hope you’re not doing anything illegal in the News of the World?
Don’t be silly, Rupert. Nothing but tits over here. Tits, tits, tits and more tits. Oh, and vicars. Naughty, naughty, evil vicars.
Good, Andy. Very good. That’s the way to keep it. Now, what about sport? Did Ash really ask for nude pics from his saucy Yank temptress after he begged Cheryl to take him back?
Yes, Rupert. He did. Now, if you wouldn’t mind letting me —
And is it true that a plucky British iguana saved its master from evil French muggers?
Yes. It is. Now go away.
And, and, and is it true that a have-a-go-hero transvestite weight-loss champion was sacked for flashing too much cleavage?
Rupert, fuck off.
Oh, all right. No need to be like that, Sport. I’m only trying to be helpful. Nothing illegal, then?
No, Rupert. Nothing. Isn’t it time for your Complan?
Oh right. Maybe it is. Thanks Andy.
Go to bed, Rupert. Nothing to worry about here.
No worries, Andy. Thanks.
Poor old Rupert. Surrounded by people with no respect for old folks.