Men, beware, one glance at this face could turn you into a helpless cypher, craving only to commit crimes in order to have the chance of a second glanceâ¦if she opens the door for you, thatâs it, you are a lost soulâ¦..truly âthe face that debauched a thousand wimpsâ.
Phew! First Murdoch fires an Exocet into the basement of the News of the World, then The Mail On Sunday decides to alienate its predominately female readership. We only need the priapic Daily Star to renounce any reproduction of the female form and we will have a hat trick of self immolation.
The journalist âthat dare not speak his nameâ â thus appearing as âAnonymousâ â in the Mail on Sunday oozes fear of women from every pore as âheâ* oils his way through several paragraphs of unintentionally hilarious venom directed at the very idea that a woman could be anything other than a sexual siren who only achieves in life by making free with that mythical gin trap he fears her vagina to beâ¦
Tatchell on Thatcher didnât come close to this level of gynophobia. Pink News might well have baulked at publishing it.
Described as a âMurdoch insiderâ â and sooo keen to remain so, under the leadership of a woman that a guarantee of anonymity was required before revealing his sexual hang ups â âheâ* describes the âintegrity freeâ organisation that he wishes to continue to pay his mortgage.
Apparently the Sun and the News of the World were bastions of integrity in the days when Clive Goodman was buying in the rubbish deposited in Eltonâs dustbin and hacking the phones of the Royals â that integrity only âstarted crumblingâ when Rebekah Brooks âgot her hands on themâ â breathtaking chutzpah!
âThroughout her careerâ, so even as a humble junior reporter eh? âShe has had one aim only: self glorificationâ. âSelf glorificationâ as any self respecting journalist could tell you, counts for naught in the hands of a hard bitten sub-editor â unless you have a vagina of course, in which case they will pass any old rubbish from you.
âWhen she took charge of The Sun, it was an abrasive, aggressive paper known for breaking big storiesâ â yes, dear â âFreddie Starr ate my hamsterâ springs to mind immediately, a story subsequently admitted to be a fabrication by Max Clifford, closely followed by the million pound payment to Elton John for accusing him of paying rent boys for sex, and untold pneumatic âphoto-journalismâ destined for the canteen walls and denounced by feminists everywhere as misogynist. This, then, is the integrity which crumbled when a woman was put in chargeâ¦
âUnder her leadership, the News of the World and The Sun became crammed with triviaâ.
If you have managed not to fall off your chair laughing at that line â let me tell you that the line appears directly opposite the Mail On Sundayâs banner headings â âI dyed my hairâ by Kim Kardashian and Kate Moss âhas a pair of shoes with Fu*k meâ written in crystals on the soleâ which may finish you offâ¦..it has taken me several moments to compose myself and continueâ¦
âWhen Prime Ministers spoke to Kelvin MacKenzie [â¦] they were scared stiff of him.â Aha! Proper man to man communication â totally unlike Rebekah; âWhen Prime Ministers spoke to Rebekah, they were love-bombed.â She didnât terrorise them like wot a proper man would? Gracious!
âShe had the same, craven relationship with public relations practitioners. [â¦]They would think up a headline and story and The Sun and News of the World would run it, word for word. Some of them were complete fiction.â
Whoa! lad, you mean not like when dear Kevin, so âfitâ, so âmasculineâ, was running the paper and the Freddie Starr story was credited as being the first example of a PR agent inventing and placing a storyâ¦
âMeanwhile, proper stories by proper journalists were buried deep inside the paper.â
Ended up between the âwalk in bath adsâ and the bingo page, did we petal? Ah Diddums!
âShe is feminine and feline, and uses it to the full. One theatrical swish of her Pre-Raphaelite hair and hardened Cabinet Ministers would swoonâ.
It Woz Her hair Wot Won it! The great and the good, surrounded by every pretty girl the lobby can chuck in their path, overcome with emotion at her hair! Why if that was all it took, every journalist would have Kevin Keegan locks, and spend their evenings in a henna bath instead of hacking phones â what a revelation! (Are you bald, my âanonymous friendâ, by any chance?) Men have to work hard to get to the top in a male dominated world, to terrorise like wot Kelvin did â women just have to shake their flame-haired tresses!
âWhat she does have â in abundance â is an ability to get what she wants. Mainly from men. And they would do whatever it took to please her â including phone hacking.â
Serious journalists like yourself, my âanonymous friendâ, throw integrity to the wind, not for career advancement, not for a scoop, but for a shake of the temptresses tresses?
Truly, women should be locked up, no man is safe from them; they suck you into that vagina, you poor helpless saps, and you are diverted forever from the true male path of integrity driven stories like âThe Truthâ â written by your idol Kelvin â (claiming that Hillsborough fans urinated on members of the emergency services and picked the pockets of crushed victims).
âAnd no one was better at handling Rupert Murdoch than Rebekah. When she was with him, she would do everything for him. She would make sure his glass was topped up, grab the right people at receptions for him, keep those who he didnât want to see out of reach, open doors for him. Everything.â
Ah, the âEverythingâ, did she shake her vagina at him too? Is that the real secret of her success?
Poor Rupert, an innocent sap, prey to the wiles of feminine charm, putty in the temptresses hands â for no one had ever opened a door for him before, or topped up his drink, introduced him to anyone â no man would do that.
Why any self respecting man would leave the CEO of the company he worked for with an empty glass, talking to himself in some forgotten corner, knowing no one, nursing the bruised nose he got when the officer junior slammed the door in his face.
I have rarely read such misogynistic nonsense, such naked fear of women â whatever possessed the MailOnSunday?
Pray for the author, if a disgruntled hack on the MailOnSunday ever reveals their identity, they will be a laughing stock.
* (If âitâ be a she, then the psychological problems are deeper than I feared!)