There is a comment from the broadcaster and pop critic, Paul Gambaccini, on the NYT’s blog that deserves a wider audience.
In 1984, when I was a DJ on BBC Radio 1, I received a phone call at the station from a reporter from the News of the World. He told me it was in my interests to meet him.
“When?” I asked.
“Now,” he said.
I proposed a pleasant coffee shop in Soho, where I would at least get a decent hot chocolate out of this. The scumbag then informed me that the paper was working on a story it had obtained from a young man who had proved he knew me by recording a telephone conversation concerning subject matter not remotely related to the “story”.
The exclusive was that I had sexual intercourse with a number one male chart star on the floor of my kitchen during my birthday party in front of my guests, who included Boy George.
The only true part of this story was that I did indeed have a kitchen floor.
I looked the reporter in the eyes and said “When you were a boy, did you want to grow up to become this?”
I have longed for the end of THE WORLD for twenty-seven years. This week I am as happy as I have ever been. Now bring on THE SUN, THE SUNDAY TIMES and Fox News.
Stomach churning behaviour.
