At the End of the Day

First of all tonight, my sincere thanks to all those who emailed and threaded to wish my attacker death at the hands of sadistically slow-eating piranha fish. Be assured that retribution is headed his way.

If only I could say the same for Rupert Turdfuck, a man who turned up to the UK’s Parliamentary culture and media committee a few years back to tell them he had never ever used any of his newspapers to advance his own commercial interests, but beyond that, he couldn’t remember anything at all about anything.

But now the Independent reports that this tax-evading, non-British, expat owner of the UK’s biggest selling tabloid has told its reporters to be more aggressive in their attacks on the Labour leader Ed Miliband in a bid to try and influence the outcome of the 7 May general election.

Merdecock told his journalists (assuming he hadn’t beforehand shopped them to the authorities) that the future of their jobs was at stake because a Labour Government would implement a rule which states no owner would be allowed to control more than 34% of the UK media, meaning the 84-year-old may have to sell one of his titles. Poor dear. Bless.

A source told the Independent: “Rupert made it very clear he was unhappy with The Sun’s coverage of the election. He basically said the future of the company was at stake and they need to get their act together.”

You have to hand it to Ruthless Mendacioch, from the day he acquired Times Newspapers, he has been lying his head off to everyone: editors, non-exec directors, Prime Ministers, wives, sons, committees, regulators and of course above all others, readers.

He has perverted justice, corrupted cops, bought MPs, and misled readers. He has hired shits of the enormity of Piers Morgan and Rebekah Brooks. He has ruined football, dumbed down British culture, and done his best to hound from office those in the cps who are on his case.

And yet, and yet…he enjoys the unswerving support of Tony Blair, Nigel Farage, Michael Gove, Jeremy Hunt, Michael Fallon, Boris Johnson – and the senior ranks of the Met Police who report to Mayor Boris.

Now a rapidy ageing Dorian Gray, Rupert Murdoch remains perhaps the only man on the planet compared to whom the Antichrist would seem benign. But here he is, yet again, a meddlesome, bitter Aussie determined to swing the Election his way.

It’s almost enough to make a chap vote Labour. Not quite enough…but close.

Earlier at The Slog: Why PC Miliband remains the Mr Plod of British politics