Hackgate- a Shakespearean tale of filth and tragedy…
George Osbourne once famously said ”Ëwe’re all in it together’. As soon as that phrase slipped out of his thin and cruel lips it was already set to haunt him and his party.
This week the Met Police, the News Of The World, the Murdochs, Rebekah Brookes and the tabloids suddenly found themselves very ”Ëall in it together’.
In the shit. Together.
What was once a very British affair of phone tapping has suddenly become a scandal that could bring down a government. Dave Cameron, the ex PR man, is in a very hot, hot seat and everyone is looking very twitchy.
The rot that is always part of British society has suddenly being exposed. The usual stuff like being rubbish at football and cricket has been brushed aside by all manner of madness.
These are strange and curious times. The End Times. The very pillars of our society are falling one by one. There was the MP’s expenses, the gradual collapse of the Eurozone and, this week, people seriously thinking that culling badgers was going to be the solution to anything.
And a long way above all that there was also Hackgate- the moment when the tabloids got found out and the bete noir of the free world, Rupert Murdoch was finally in the dock.
Oddly everyone seemed in shock at the tabloid world and pretended to be very surprised by their methods.
”ËGotcha!”Â the tabloids once screamed and suddenly there they were in the spotlight themselves. The much feared Rupert Murdoch was summoned to Parliament to answer questions but sent along a shambling old granddad to represent him instead. The confused older man was accompanied by a younger man who looked like he was trying to get into the final of ”ËThe Apprentice’.
Except Alan Sugar was not there to grill them but the far more tenacious Tom Watson who has become the scourge of the dark arts of the tabloid world or the semi criminal press as someone said on the TV tonight. Ramones fan Watson, who we last spotted at the Labour Party conference pub quiz, which he won because one of the questions mentioned him, is a tenacious man and didn’t let the Murdochs off.
Oddly none of the tabloid Mr. Bigs seemed to have a clue about what was going on in their empire. It must have been like this when the last emperor of Rome was told the Visigoths were on their way but scoffed believing that the ”Ëeternal city’ would never fall.
The tabloid kings sat there looking like war criminals finally dragged to the dock. For the fascinated onlooker it had that same kind of ”Ëwhere is the fearsome folk devil gone mummy’ feel to it. Instead of the terrifying embodiment of evil all we saw was the keen son taking the flak and this confused old man who was looking for his bus pass whilst being fed some humble pie by a deranged protestor.
It was hardly the antichrist everyone wanted.
In a strange and deranged day the ugly side of modern life was spilled onto the desk of real life like entrails flopping out of freshly culled badger.
It was not a pretty site.