News of the end of the News of the World.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t have to.

Rebekah with a ‘K’ slammed a bony fist onto her bread roll, “I’m so sorry Rupey!” Spittle flew from her twisted mouth and landed on Murdoch’s bulbous plasticine nose where it swayed and glittered in the candlelight.

The media mogul picked up a perfectly creased napkin and carefully wiped it away. He snapped another claw off his lobster thermidor and dug at the flesh with a yellowing finger.

“It’s not me, it’s them, and they’re all idiots!” Rebekah with a ‘K’ reached for her wine glass and shivered, despite the clinging humidity.

She studied the man before her and had to stifle a little whimper of excitement. He was obsessive, he was ruthless, he was unimaginably old and yet Rebekah knew she would do anything for him. Anything!

“What can I do? Please tell me!” She tipped her head to one side and tried hard to look coquettish.

‘Don’t do that.”

“Sorry.”

“You will personally oversee the investigation into the deplorable scandal. You will be found innocent. You will help me raise a phoenix from the still warm ashes of the News of The World. And…”

“And…?” Rebekah almost squealed with pleasure.

Rupert Murdoch pulled back his lips and smiled a terrible lobster encrusted smile. “We will survive.”

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