I guess we all have to learn at some time or another that the press
are a law unto themselves and that we have to put up with whatever
they decide to throw at us, but this time I feel they have ventured
utterly beyond the pale. I might be a very minor author, I might even
be slipping so far off the charts that I disappear completely, but for
no one even to try to hack my phone is, quite honestly, hurtful. All
those juicy affairs I spoke about at length, all those late night
rendezvous with Manchester United footballers and even my dodgy knee
that Prince William was so keen to hear about are clearly not good
enough for Mr Murdoch’s empire.
And what has happened to Hugh Grant? Who would have thought he was
such an erudite, right-minded and, let’s be honest, darned attractive
man? Just goes to show you cannot believe what the press has been
writing all these years.
As for me, I will not moan or whine about being invisible. I will not
bug my bra while engaging Hugh in conversation over a couple of
bottles of beer (that I will pay for), I will not even stoop so low as
to throw a slumber party for all my girlfriends. Instead, I will slide
into oblivion, with my head help high knowing that the custard pie of
shame will not be sloshed into my face.