Turning a blind eye

So, this blog's absolutely favourite person is back in the news, after a very, very long and entirely undeserved holiday at our expenses.

Yes, it's Gordon McBroon, folks.

He's - and his gimlet-eyed puppet-mistress wife - are bleating about something that happened in 2006.

Admittedly, it was something pretty fucking grim. News International's army of bribers and bin-grubbers found out that their son was ill, with cystic fibrosis, and promptly published the story, probably alongside a 'pic' of a nineteen old girl with impropable hooters.

The Browns were "extremely distressed" when that fucking awful ginger harpy phoned them to tell them she was about to publish. Gordon was "furious", and - we belatedly learn - "in tears".

An awful thing to do, but one that explains a lot.

It expains why, from 2006 onward, Gordon Brown, Mrs Broon and the Labour party had absolutely nothing to do with Murdoch, or the Murdoch press.

Broon did not ever give interviews to NI reporters, he did not write patronising pieces about what a marvellous job he was doing to be spoon-fed to drooling Sun-readers and he certainly did not have his people kiss Rupe's wrinkled arse for the next 3 years in the desperate hope of patronage.

And Mrs Broon really, really didn't use the Murdoch press to trumpet all her secret work for charidees, and she really wasn't regularly photographed tenderly prodding little brown babies. Oh no.

And there's no way the McBroons, after being treated so shoddily, would ever go to Rebakak-kah-kah's wedding. No way.

And it also explains why Gordon's successor, Ed Milliband and most of the Labour opposition Front Bench were absolutely not in attendance at Rupert's party on June 16th this year.

None of those things happened, because if they had, we might have concluded the Broon and his friends were a bunch of hypocritical power-whores, so desperate to cling to power that they'd carry on dancing with someone who'd kneed them in the groin, pissed on their chips and stolen their wallets.

Wouldn't we?

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