"I call my cancer Rupert... There is no one person more responsible for the pollution of what was already a fairly polluted press [than Rupert Murdoch]. And the pollution of the British press is an important part of the pollution of British political life, and it's an important part of the cynicism and misperception of our own realities that is destroying so much of our political discourse."
The truth of these words has only become clear to me thanks to journalism like this:
Harris, John (2011) "How the phone-hacking scandal unmasked the British power elite", The Guardian, 18 July, accessed 18/07/2011 at, http://www.guardian.co.uk/media/2011/jul/18/phone-hacking-british-power-elite
My personal response to Murdoch's cancerous cynicism is this modest venture into cyberspace.
A horrid nightmare woke me with a start this morning. I dreamt that I'd somehow managed to trap Rupert in a can. He'd taken the form of a long-legged insect. This hideous creature succeeded in forcing its way out and proceeded to stab me in the side. This shocked me into consciousness, leaving me rubbing my imaginary wound and marvelling at how deep the Murdoch affair has penetrated my subconsciousness...