Why Do They Think Up Stories That Link My Name With Yours?

Sometimes life gets it right, and the filming of a quick knee-trembler between Rupert Murdoch and his flunkey Jeremy C Hunt is one such time. Hunt was aware of Murdoch's presence at the Olympics, courtesy of the same London Haystack who dismissed allegations of phone hacking as "codswallop"; but apparently the meeting took place purely by chance, as meetings between big-time crooks and their flunkeys often do. It would, of course, be absurd to suggest that the encounter was anything other than what Hunt's spokesbeing said it was - an "exchange in passing", as two lonely shits in the night - and certainly there is no way of proving how many of the very few words exchanged were "congrats!" Now that Hunt has noticed that media plurality issues can occasionally arise where NewsCorp is not involved, perhaps Murdoch is giving him a few useful tips; but probably not at the Olympics. Of course, after all he has been through, Hunt's sheer stupidity in not staying well away from Murdoch's radioactive old carcass bespeaks a lyrical, doglike devotion to rival that of Liam Fox for the former Minister for War, Adam Werritty; but the most poetic aspect of the tale is surely the fact that the tryst was filmed on a mobile phone.