DEAR OLD RUPERT MURDOCH

I had cucumber sandwiches on Rupert Murdoch's lawn yesterday. I don't know him terribly well but I can confirm he is a first class gentleman with the highest moral standards - and in between his swearing and urinating in the goldfish pond we had a rum old time.


He showed me a member of his new robot army designed to feed us all on a nutritious diet of waffle and total shit. I found it typically audacious. After we had scarfed the sangers and Ruppie smeared the crumbs and butter off his crotch he offered to show me his collection of politcians' souls pickled in ectoplasm.


'No thanks old chum, I've seen enough of those filthy hoors to do me a lifetime,' quoth I as I climbed over his hedge leaving him to throw empty beer bottles at Mother Theresa's corpse (he bought it on ebay if you must know.)