the baggy trousered misanthropist

missives issued from the lair

The News of the World, perhaps I lost sight of. Maybe because it was so small in the general frame of our company.

Rupert? Might I politely suggest you’re looking in the wrong direction? Despite your best efforts, it’s looking increasingly like the nasty beast you euthanised has resurrected itself in the warmth of your sunny blind spot, doubled back and is just about to take a huge chunk out of your backside.

Rumour has it, James just suffered a fairly serious mauling. Are you next?

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