Sunday Best

Culture Minister in disappearing microphone riddle

SPEAR-HURLING beauty Leryn Franco took time out from preparations for the Olympic Games to smoulder in a skimpy white bikini in today’s Sun on Sunday. Rihanna, by contrast, was too busy having crocodile skin painted onto her boobs to worry about Britain hosting the Olympic Games. We also learned that Lady Gaga’s dance routines have been so tough on the star’s body, she has been throwing up in gigs – and is thus Lady Gaggaooeerrhuwey. Telly presenter Stacey Solomon said she’ll wear a dress made of flowers at her wedding and a gag in her mouth after saying “I do”. A Lip jabs addict has been scarred for life after searching for the perfect pout. Whitney Houston’s family members are to star in their own reality show, although Whitney herself cannot attend due to a previous engagement. And Brit mum Stella Onions is glad she breastfed her children until they were six years old, but sad that she was born into the Onion family. I’d show Stella showing off her onions while breastfeeding her latest two children Josephine and Zac, but The Sun’s Lawyers are Watching Me, so I mustn’t.

Welcome to the world of the man for whom Jeremy Hunt is proud to stand as a cheer-leader.

Meanwhile, on planet Earth where most people would be proud to stand on Jeremy’s head, the IoS this morning  leads with the shocking and yet somehow unsurprising news that former News of the World editor Andy Coulson ‘called the bluff of the Tory leader and George Osborne by refusing to sign a confidentiality clause as part of his appointment.’ It is quite extraordinary to think that a bloke with not only no security clearance but also a closeness to media mogul Rupert Murdoch was allowed to bluff his way through that one. Perhaps Camerlot figured that, as Roop more or less told Blair to invade Iraq, it was unlikely Newscorp didn’t know everything secret already anyway.

The IoS piece goes on to point out that Cameron, Hunt, Brooks and most of Newscorp’s lawyers were more or less sharing bodily fluids nonstop during the crucial BSkyB bid run-up, and even more so once Vince Cable was conveniently pushed out of the juggernaut’s way. In a normal world, there is no way either Hunt or Cameron should survive such a clear case of Prime Ministerial favouritism.

Nor indeed should the previously Teflon Draper, who thus far has escaped scot-free from his obvious pimping role in acquiring the ‘services’ of Coulson. The Guardian dumps more poo on the Chancellor today, revealing that ‘George Osborne was dragged deeper into the furore over the Murdoch empire’s links to government as it emerged that he entertained Rebekah Brooks for a weekend at his country residence as Rupert Murdoch was planning to take over BSkyB.’

Also present for the weekend at Dorneywood was….Andy Coulson, by this time fully-installed and clearance-free, working as David Cameron’s director of communications inside No 10. All this clubbing, partying and weekending makes one wonder how any of them had time to get any work done; but then, this was Cameron’s job by then…working for Newscorp.

The obviously corrupt relationship between the Government’s two biggest beasts and The Beast from Hell is so well-established now, it almost isn’t news any more. But as always in the UK, until George Osborne is caught whipping his dog, things are unlikely to move quickly to a judicial conclusion involving Wormwood Scrubs.

The Coalition’s 3rd biggest beast William Hague was meanwhile being ‘forthright’ in an interview with The Sunday Telegraph. Mr Vague told Torygraph readers, “There’s only one growth strategy: work hard.” ‘Chance would be a fine thing’ might well be the response of many people this morning, although one suspects most of them wouldn’t be readers of the Sark & Mail Boatpeople Gazette. The Mekon went on to further warn that Britain ‘has suffered from decades of declining work ethic’, when people were persuaded they could “live on expanded debt forever, rather than having to earn what we spend”. The worst of those decades for credit madness was, of course, the 1980s, when Willy’s heroine Baroness Thatcher was engaged in giving the City its biggest credit-bang in history – and lots of Council House renters mortgages they couldn’t afford to pay off.

“The country’s work ethic needs to be rescued in the nick of time” the Foreign Secretary concluded.  I have problems with that view. They centre mainly around the words ‘rescue’ and ‘nick of time’. William Hague is not stupid: he must know what’s coming – so breathless stuff  about Britannia being pulled off the rails away from the oncoming train by Superdraper is utter bollocks. We might have got there had it not been for the Nick of Clegg. But the only place we’re going now is to the cleaners.

There’s a cracker at the Mail on Sunday this morning. Almost a perfect rendition of the Dacre template, it manages to get in just about everything:

‘How did he slip through net? Violent asylum seeker, 18, who claimed to be 15, almost kills foster mother in savage knife attack while she slept after social services blunder.’

Is he the most violent teenager in Britain though? We don’t know. But he’s a violent net-slipping knife-savage who almost kills people, that’s for sure. Be afraid, be very afraid: and keep your eyes peeled for blundering social workers….it could be your turn next.

I read a lot of stuff in the Mail that does indeed reflect my own experiences with authority and minority. But although Dacre the Mad allegedly doesn’t edit the Sunday version, you’d barely notice any difference. My problem with the paper is that rather than campaigning for change, it seems hell-bent on maximising hate. Paul Dacre is a sad old f**k really, but I’m still recovering from the arrogance he displayed in front of the Leveson Enquiry. Any report on standards in journalism would surely recommend deportation for him. Either that, or ask the question, ‘Is this the maddest person in Fleet Street?’

In the Sunday Mirror, the madness of the world is there for all to see and, apparently, enjoy. Footballer Lee Hendrie talks about booze problems and trying to kill himself , Lulu talks about how drink ruined her marriage to Maurice Gibb, there’s a surge of women applying to become nuns to escape the recession, a fourth masseur has made claims against the Pulp Fiction star John Travolta (I thought it was women he was doing it to), and wait for it…yes, it’s getting serious – Cat Deeley and comedian Patrick Kielty are buying furniture together. Blimey. Who’s Cat Deeley?

I’ve no idea why the Mirror exists any more. It used to have a clear positioning as the intelligent workers’ paper – in contrast to Sun-readers – but now it seems just as daft as everything else. Also the headline-writers are no good. They need lessons from the Mail, which would’ve joined up the above stories as follows:


Back to more real news later today.