As we all now know, Rebekah Brooks has resigned from her position as CEO of News International. Furthermore, she was later arrested by London police on suspicions of phone hacking and corruption.
However, if she is brought to trial and acquitted, where will she go? Will she help out in a leper colony run by Mother Teresa’s nuns? Or get a gig as a Page Three model in The Sun? Or maybe she’ll head off down under?
But, a crucial question is, “why did she actually resign from News International?” The Political Sword
brings you an exclusive account of the dramatic events surrounding Rebekah’s last few hours as a Murdoch head-kicker. So remember, you read about it here first, on THE POLITICAL SWORD!
You couldn’t quite see his arse through the seat of his threadbare pants yet, but times aren’t nearly as good for Rupes Murdoch as they used to be.
All this kerfuffle over the News of the World has caused the value of his assets to diminish somewhat, with the latest setback being his inability to pay the wages of the Page Three Girls at The Sun.
Feeling besieged in his Unadax Ranch, high up on the Arizona plains, Rupes is taking this particular setback pretty hard, as the Page Three lovelies have become an institution within his organisation over the years.
However, one of his intrepid offsiders, Rebekah “Jen” Brooks, has been tasked with solving the problem of meeting the Page Three deadline. For Jen, the solution is simple: get a nudie photo from a copy of Playboy she has found, photocopy it, and fax it to The Sun, in time for their print run.
But, what a time for the photocopier to play up! And especially as Rupes has run up some many debts in the local community, he can’t get a technician to come within cooee of the place. Why, he even had to go cap in hand to his neighbour, Sen John McCain, to cadge a tank-full of aviation fuel for his private jet.
In a previous life, as the “Relationships Manager” of Reinhold Industries (Australia), Jen would have passed on such mundane tasks to her two geeky underlings, Moss Conroy and Roy Quigley, aka The IT Crowd. She misses them so much. Maybe she should ask for their help again?
Rupes has racked his brains for a long-term answer to this cash-flow problem he is encountering. But to no avail. “How on goddam Earth am I going to ensure I can pay my Page Three Girls?” he self-torturously asks himself. Therefore, he has instructed Jen to make it her priority and come up with a solution.
Meanwhile, in her office, Jen is driving herself to distraction, trying to think of a way to contact her old colleagues at Reinhold Industries (Australia). She reminisces over the good old days when the two lads would come to her rescue and somehow get her out of some mess or other. That they, with their school-boy pranks, had caused the mess in the first place however, was neither here nor there. After all, they all got paid at the end of the day. Which Jen won’t, if she doesn’t come up with the goods this time.
How will she make contact? Phone? Nah – the bastards never answered it when it rang, ever. They used to stare blankly at it, a bit like the Head of the RAN when he knew Tony Abbott was trying to contact him on his boatphone.
Send them an email? Nope – ever since the Godwin Grech episode, they refused to even open their emails, claiming they were all forgeries.
“Anyway”, Jen admits to herself, “I’m only fooling myself here, as I don’t know how to phone Australia, or work a computer. All I know is how to press a button on a photocopier, and the only one we have here doesn’t bloody work”.
Then, Jen has a brainwave.
“I’ll send my pet carrier pigeon, the supersonic one I’ve had since my time at Reinhold Industries! Those two nerds are always time-wasting and looking out the window, so when it lands on their sill, they’ll be only too glad of a distraction, see the message around its little leg, and come to my rescue!”
Jen puts her master-plan immediately into action and the world-record breaking carrier pigeon flies to and from Australia in two shakes of a lamb’s tail. The two lads reply that they “will be delighted to help our old colleague out”.
But what the two geeks actually said to each other was, “Wow! – a free trip to the States, plus another chance to take the piss out of Jen – who would be foolish enough to turn those offers down...hee...hee...” In the carrier-pigeon message, however, they don’t tell her that since her day, Reinhold Industries has been taken over and re-named. They’ll break that to her when they get there.
So, Rupes’ private jet, with the two Aussie lads on board, lands on the runway in front of the Unadax complex, and the now almost-penurious mogul and his trusty assistant, Jen, gratefully watch it taxi to a halt. If the truth be known, however, the flight might not have happened. Earlier, the pilot, who hadn’t been paid for a few weeks, got all bolshie and threatened to go on strike. However, he soon changed his tune when Rupes told him if he didn’t “get in that goddam cockpit”, he would be flying Black Hawks over Somalia again (and on WorkChoices), before he could say “Karl Freakin’ Marx”!
As they watch the two down-under trouble-shooters walk up to the Unadax front door, Rupes and Jen hug each other, in anticipation of their photocopier getting fixed. However, they can’t also help but feel a tinge of apprehension as they notice the lack of growth in the untended flower-beds adjacent to the ranch building.
Coming back to reality, however, Jen then leaves Rupes’ office and walks down to the front door to welcome her two erstwhile colleagues. She ushers them quickly into the building and escorts them immediately up to Rupes’ office.
However, upon entering, Moss and Roy notice a few things that are a bit on the queer side. Firstly, Rupes is on the phone. Nothing strange about that, except he is holding an old kitchen tap to his ear. Sensing their puzzlement, Jen whispers to the lads.
Jen: Erm...its not really a phone, y’know...Actually, since the price of his shares dropped, he hasn’t paid the bill, so they cut him off...Therefore, we gave him the tap and tell him, every now and then, the famous private detective, Jim Rockford is on the line, wanting some instructions about whose phone he wants him to tap next...He’s actually only talking to himself...sad, really...
[Rupes delivers a gob-full of four-letter expletives down the tap, castigating “Jim” for not being successful at tapping Barack Obama’s phone, and recording him admitting he goes to bed in a burqa nightie.]
Moss (whispering): Jeeze...all that swearing...he’d make Tony Abbott sound like a Trappist monk during Lent...
Jen: Nah...he’s harmless...he’s happiest when he’s sledging anyway...
[The lads also notice something else strange in Rupes’ office. There are boxes and boxes of Royal Doulton stacked ceiling-high against one of the walls.]
Roy (also whispering): Pssttt...Jen...what gives with all the Royal Doulton...I thought you said the old guy was on the bones of his arse...
Jen: Yeah, but they’re only cheap, Hong Kong fakes...he got them for next to nothing on E-Bay, from a bloke called Arthur...
Moss: But...but...but...what does he need all that crockery for?
Jen: Oh, we pass it off as the real stuff...It’s bribes, really...for the Royal Protection Officers to tell us if the corgis have done their number two’s that day...our readers find that sort of information really interesting, for some reason...
[Suddenly, Rupes bangs the tap down on the desk, luckily just missing the little snow globe poised precariously on the edge.]
Rupes: Well, well, well...if it isn’t the two geeks from The IT Crowd...I hope you two are up to the task of fixing my photocopier, so that Jen can get my business back on an even keel, and the Page Three Girls get paid...
Roy (indignantly): Huh...fixing a mangy photocopier is nothing! We’re the brains behind the NBN in Australia, I’ll have you know...
[At the mention of the hated phrase, “NBN”, a mist redder than Tony Abbott’s budgie smugglers descends upon Rupes. He pulls a shotgun out from under his desk, brandishing it menacingly.]
Rupes (hysterically): Why, you dirty commo layabouts...That f***ing NBN is going to bankrupt me completely, y’know...I’ll show you how we deal with commo leftie upstarts around here...
[Before Rupes can take aim and send the two cyber nerds back to Australia in little pieces, Jen thankfully intervenes by plonking herself on Rupes’ knee and, simultaneously, sucking like blazes on her thumb.]
Jen: Oh, Daddykins...don’t be angry...the two nice boys are here to help us...remember the broken photocopier and how we are unable to take copies of the nudies to send to The Sun for page three?
[By this stage, Moss and Roy are so shit scared, they feel like they have swallowed a whole crate of Senocot tablets, washed down by a couple of litres of prune juice.]
Moss (grovellingly): Erm...yeah...and the NBN we work for isn’t that nasty one you’re thinking of, sir...in fact, its a totally different NBN we work for – the Nice Boobs News, in fact, sir...
Rupes: Oh, that’s different then...you three need to get cracking and fix my photocopier...And by the way, Jen...I wish you wouldn’t sit on my knee and suck your thumb like that...It isn’t hygienic...and anyway, you’re squishing my willy...
[Jen is livid. She can’t believe this guy has insinuated she’s fat! She jumps up off Rupes’ knee, beckoning the much-relieved geeks to join her. They rapidly high-tail it out of Rupes’ office and proceed to the photocopier room. The two boyos get to it and, at the same time, rib Jen about her lack of knowledge about computers and such like. But she knows it’s all harmless banter and, for the moment, she forgets she has overdosed, thanks to Rupes, on her angry pills and all the fond memories of her time at Reinhold Industries (Australia) come flooding back.]
Jen (laughing): Do you guys remember the time when that sleaze from Accounts...Declan Stephenson, I think his name was...was stalking me and...I think it was you, Roy...pulled up your tee-shirt...tee...hee...leaned over the photocopier...and then sent the picture to his email address, saying it was my bare chest...He certainly stopped following me after that, I can tell you...haw...haw...
[Jen is nearly wetting herself laughing when, eventually, she notices the two geeks aren’t joining in with the hilarity, and are in fact looking a bit sheepish.]
Moss: Erm...Jen...I hate to tell you this...but...ahhh...that photocopy we sent Declan...erm...well...do you remember our IT Section’s Christmas party when you got pissed and insisted on boasting to everyone how good you were at using the photocopier...
[Jen pauses for a moment or two to think.]
Jen: Nah! I wouldn’t have...Tell me I didn’t, guys...
[The two larrikins burst out laughing, putting Jen back at ease, and proceed to fix the machine. For tech-heads of their calibre, it is a walk in the park. Soon, Roy is reliving old memories by pulling up his tee-shirt and testing out the machine by copying his chest.
However, whilst the boys were fixing the machine, Jen got to thinking. After a long pensive pause, she can’t help but blurt out.]
Jen: I’ve made up my mind guys...I’m getting out of here...There’s no way I’m gonna put up with old misery guts any longer...I’m flying back to Oz with you...I could start off at the bottom again...Do you think the editor of the Woop Woop Weekly Warbler would give me a job?
[The two lads look awkwardly at each other.]
Maurice: Listen! The pilot’s revving the engines – we better get on board...
[Meanwhile, back in Rupes’ office, he is on the tap again. This time, it’s Bob Brown who’s copping it for daring to suggest a Senate Inquiry into the media in Australia. Eventually, he slams down the tap and stares out the window. He notices his private jet taking off. “Great”, he thinks to himself, “those two fair dinkum Aussie boys must have fixed the photocopier and gone home”.]
Rupes drags his weary body into the copier room. Unfortunately, he has left his glasses on the desk, but manages a quick squiz at a few pikkies in the out-tray.]
Rupes (shouting in ecstasy): Brilliant, Jen! You can fax these off to The Sun immediately...
[Rupes’ entreaties to Jen are but pearls thrown to swine...the empty, forbidding edifice of his soulless ranch throws them back, mockingly, in his wizened face.]
Rupes: Hurry up there, lass! I think we’ve turned the corner...Where are you, Jen? If you don’t get in here quick, we’ll miss the page three deadline...
[On the high, drought-stricken plains of Arizona, the unrelenting winds sift the shallow soils interminably. Here, there’ll be no roses budding for a while...if ever...]
No life-threatening injuries were inflicted upon the pigeon in forcing it to reveal details of events upon which this report is founded. Needless to say, however, it will no longer be able to participate in supersonic flights to Australia.
A private jet, en route to Australia, was impounded by authorities at Heathrow Airport, where it had stopped for re-fuelling. It is alleged that the pilot and three passengers had attempted to do a runner without paying for the fuel. After establishing the identity of the ringleader, a 43-year-old female known only as “Jen”, police have also charged her with multiple counts of photocopier abuse. The other two passengers have been released on bail and are reported to have gone feral and are working as illegal aliens in a shady internet cafe in the notorious Soho district.
Keep tuned in for further developments on these unfolding stories. Readers are encouraged to add any other tit-bits, true or not, they have heard, in the space below.