Isn't Richard Desmond adorable? I've always said so. Now the owner of the Express, Star and OK! says he wants to buy the Sun. He has £1bn to spare and would run the paper more economically than Murdoch does. Of this I have no doubt.
The thing about Desmond is that like the alien in, er, Alien, he is an an Entirely. While nancy boy Murdoch still, even in his dotage, aspires to provide some quality journalism amid the Page 3 boobs and Mystic Megs, Desmond is Entirely Tabloid. Not one edifying thought passes his lips. Thank God. He is pure, driven, but not like the snow. If he were a cat we'd call him Sooty. He is dark. He belongs to the shadows, he is an elemental; like an angel (fallen) he is devoid of reason: his every action is moved by sentiment, revenge, greed, lust. This is the profile of an Entirely. He is the perfect tabloid boss. He is not the Hyacinth Bucket of the newspaper world.
Why, only the other day, the Sun actually carried a story about poet Michael Horovitz as lyrical muse to Damon Albarn of Gorillaz and their third album Plastic Beach. The paper even encouraged its readers to vote for him in the Oxford poetry professorship election and published its website address to this end. Naturally, the poor mite who wrote the story didn't realise only Oxonians can vote and laboured under the misapprehension that it was an annual event. Under Desmond this mistake would not have been made.
He would have killed the story on sight! Why would Sun readers be interested in Michael Horovitz or Oxford poetry professors?
Desmond understands this without thinking. He is the incarnation of our lurid sex and slebrity fantasies. He is on course for deification (Hades division). But first he must buy the Sun.