Unpalatable truth
Sir: I notice that William Shawcross is still sulking over the critical walloping inflicted on his biography of Rupert Murdoch two years ago. In your Letters page of 16 April, he grumbles about the 'hypocrisy' of Robert Harris (Diary, 9 April), who, in spite of having been employed as a colum- nist by the Sunday Times, dared to suggest in a review of the book that 'the consump- tion of shit is what working for Murdoch usually entails'. Why, Shawcross demands, 'did Harris the columnist feel so compelled to "consume shit", as Harris the reviewer so elegantly put it? It's all rather confusing.' Shawcross himself may be confused poor little diddums — but I don't see why anyone else should be. For the source of the coprophagic metaphor which Shawcross the correspondent apparently finds so dis- tasteful is none other than Shawcross the biographer.
On page 349 of Murdoch, writing about the furtive flit to Wapping, he quotes a Times journalist: 'I want to go. But I want to go with my head up . . . not on my knees, eating Murdoch shit.' Harris cited this in his review. He then added: 'Alas, the consumption of shit is what working for Murdoch usually entails, especially for those who dine at the proprietor's own table.' By omitting the second half of that sentence from his letter, Shawcross obscures the point Harris was making: that many of Murdoch's most senior executives and business partners — Richard Searby, Barry Diller, Harold Evans, Clay Felker and others too numerous to mention have been abruptly dumped or humiliated by their former seducer.
Francis Wheen
Sokens, Green Street, Pleshey, Nr Chelmsford, Essex
Previous page
