Letters to Lillys.

THAT was the week that brought down the most powerful woman in Fleet Street and had Rupert Murdoch crawling on his hands and knees to apologise to Milly Dowler's family.

A few people were arrested, some policemen looked pretty bad and lots of other stories continued to not get quite as much attention as the phone-hacking scandal.

This post on the imagined voicemails being exchanged between Rebekah Brooks, Rupert Murdoch, Dishface et al was the most popular of the week.

Jerry said: "You need to be writing comedy." Nicola added: "Oh another classic post from Foxy.... very very funny."

Jed said:

"That was bloody brilliant. Wish my mum would leave me voicemails about hats and stuff. That's the only thing I envy about Rebekah Brooks (as portrayed in that post) that I envy. She can keep the rest of the stuff going on in her life. I'm good."

The week's next post on Kate Middleton's appearance - I still can't call her Duchess of Cambridge, it sounds weird - during the Royal visit stateside drew more criticism.

The Itch said: "Possibly. But I'm not sure comparing her to the dead mother of her new husband is the way to break it to her." Lucy added: "Ffs Foxy - so what?!? Jeez." Joanne chipped in: "Protruding bones just ain't healthy or attractive." And Lisa wrote: "Oh yay! Another 'Ben & Jerry' blog."

Lucinda said: 

"Stress and excitement plus nervous anticipation makes weight fall off me, unintentionally. I guess that's what is happening to Kate, she has been thrown into the A list spotlight and appears to be having a great time!"

Howard added:

"I think you've picked the wrong target. You're doing a great job but stop banging on about the 'Duchess' and her weight - she's doing her best in a very difficult job. Slag her off at your peril! As my Dad used to say, 'If you can't say anything nice about someone, keep your mouth shut'."

Ed: Jeez, then where would newspapers be? In all seriousness I wasn't picking on her size so much - she's a naturally skinny girl, fair enough - as the fact that she's now plainly unwell. Whatever the cause, metabolic or psychological, the girl needs to have some of the pressure taken off her and tuck into a nice healthy pasty. Of course such comment adds to the pressure - but the alternative is keeping your mouth shut about something that doesn't seem right. Not what I do.

As the phone-hacking scandal continued this post pointed out that responsibility is being dodged while the bandwagon rumbles ever on.

Robbie said: "Spot on." Kev said: "Eloquently put, as ever." Caroline added: "Smashing stuff, foxy." But Colin pointed out: "Vengeful fantasy? Not buying that."

Then a judge said divorce was easier than getting a driving licence and this post explained why it perhaps marriage ought to involve sitting some exams first.

A rather cynical Richard said: "No-one has ever convinced me that marriage is anything better than a moment of smugness, followed by a lifetime of regret." Moungder said: "I couldn't agree more - and I'm just about to his 15 years of marriage next month!" Ruth added: "I've ALWAYS thought exactly the same thing. Having done both, it always hacks me off when people say how divorce is so easy when the sanctimonious feckers have never done it."

Bryan disagreed:

"My 1st wife left on a Sunday, came back Tuesday to say it was 'too hard to talk about' and did the unreasonable behaviour option, she never told me why, would never discuss it. Moved in with her boyfriend and 16yrs later I've still not had any explanation as to what built up to it. So, for her, it was easy, too damn easy. Like telling some kid in a schoolyard that you are no longer 'going out'. So from my experience IT IS EASY, too easy. All she had to do was sign a letter full of lies."

Ed: QED - If getting the marriage licence was harder work, perhaps that wouldn't have happened.

At the end of the week lots of things happened, but one of them was the blog hit its three-month birthday and 300,344 readers, all on the same day.

Lime said: "It's all my doing, of course. Without me, it would only have had 300,343 different visitors. You're welcome." Jones said: "Three months? Is that all?! You seem to have been around forever!"

Ed: No, I just look that way.

Looks like the weekend will be a bit of a washout - enjoy it best you can, anyway.

Foxy out.

All aboard.

ON the one hand, we have responsibility, (noun): the state or fact of being answerable or accountable for something within your power, control, or management.

And on the other, we have a bandwagon, (noun): a transport, usually large and ornately decorated, for carrying a musical band, as in a circus parade or to a political rally; a party, cause, movement, that by its mass appeal or strength attracts many followers.

Amazingly, in the teeth of an international scandal people happily dodge one and jump on the other. Who'da thunk it?

So Dishface won't turn up to the hacking debate in the House of Commons, even though he employed a man now up to his neck in trouble. The chief executive of a company that's had £4bn wiped off its shares and sacked 500 people sees no reason for concern. And the police officers who plainly did not investigate the whole mess properly blame the criminals for not co-operating.

Meanwhile a former Prime Minister throws around accusations of stealing medical files of his sick son in what later turns out to be some kind of vengeful fantasy, the House of Commons which has perhaps the greatest concentration of fraudsters in Britain loudly accuses others of misbehaving, and Anne Diamond has suddenly claimed, 20 years after the fact, that condolence bouquets from journalists given after the tragic cot death of her son may have contained listening devices.

FYI, Anne, in 1991 any such devices would have needed a battery pack the size of a housebrick. Added to which, no-one needs to bug you when you're so keen to talk. And for Keith Vaz, one of the oiliest politicians ever to crawl into Parliament, to start asking other people about abuse of power is mind-shatteringly ironic.

While, quite plainly, there needs to be a clean-out of the Met, new rules that politicians might actually stick to and stronger, better powers for the Press Complaints Commission, we're now being confronted with a celebrity campaign whose ultimate aim is that we get a media which meets with the approval of Hugh Grant, Max Mosley and Steve Coogan.

Presumably they'll demand every newspaper runs consumer campaigns on the hookers that give real value for money.

As appalling as some aspects of the scandal are, there's not a lot of firm evidence yet and plenty of people throwing mud. The story's changing several times a day, everyone involved is going to need to take a long cold bath, and by the end of it things are going to look very different.

I just hope someone, at some point, puts their hand up and admits responsibility for their own actions, like a real, proper grown-up. And that we don't all end up printing a version of Celebrity Razzle.

Toot toot!

You have one new voicemail.

"Hi, Beks, Andy here. Can you give us a bell when you've got a mo? Cheers."

You have one new voicemail.

"Rebekah, hi, it's Dave. Think we've got a spot of bother. Could we have a chat? This one can't wait til Sunday lunch. Sam says love to Charlie."

You have one new voicemail.

"It's mum. Do you know you're on the news? You need a haircut. I'm posting you a nice hat I found."

You have one new voicemail.

"Beks, Andy here. I know you're busy but things are going a bit tits-up here. Call me mate, yeah?"

You have one new voicemail.

"This is a message for Rebekah. Mr Murdoch would like a word. Can you call him on his personal line? Thank you."

You have one new voicemail.

"Rupert! Hi, Rebekah. Looks like we're playing telephone tennis. Everything here completely under control, we're going to throw Coulson under the bus and sack 500 people. That should get the Press off our backs. Journalists, eh? Ha ha! Byeeeee."

You have one new voicemail.

"It's mum. You're on the news again, can't you stop wearing black? Makes you look old. I've got to go to the hairdressers' but I wondered if you'd got the hat yet. Lots of love."

You have one new voicemail.

"Hello Rebekah, this is Martin. It was a pleasure to meet you earlier and I hope my advice was of some use to you. Like I said, if you want to go ahead my fees are £600 an hour but I am fairly sure that we can settle these matters with your employers out of court. If they do terminate employment we can make a strong unfair dismissal suit especially as you've not been convicted of anything. It's called the Sharon Shoesmith defence. Speak soon."

You have one new voicemail.

"One has to leave a message? Now? Oh. Hellehhh? ONE WOULD LIKE TO TALK TO REBEKAH. One understands she has my number. Which button now? Ehhh."

You have one new voicemail.

"It's Andy. This is getting serious. I've just had the Old Bill round. What the fuck is this about emails being handed over? I thought they'd been lost in Delhi! Christ Rebekah, this is getting hairy. CALL ME."

You have one new voicemail.

"Philip here. Just wanted to say don't let the buggers get yer down, yer still a very fine filly in my book even though Her Maj says I shouldn't tell people I've got a book. There's a whole section on redheads, but I've had to bump Fergie down the "mad and dirty" list this week. You're at the top! Heh, heh. Now, any time you fancy a gin and tonic, or an old codger to whip those Titian tresses at, yer know where I am. Oh, and er, anything you've got off Fergie's phones... well, I'm sure we can come to an arrangement! Tally ho."

You have one new voicemail.

"It's Rupert. I'm coming over, angelface. Dinner? We'll make a show of it."

You have one new voicemail.

"Look, we've been mates for years. I thought you had my back. I thought this had gone away. I've resigned twice, for fuck's sake! I can't believe you've dumped me. Call me, let's sort it out!"

You have one new voicemail.

"It's Rupert. Great to see you, don't forget you're my number one girl! This will all blow over. If any of those 500 journalists we sacked start mouthing off we'll refuse to pay them redundancy. And Dave's an idiot, I'll handle him. Keep your pretty chin up!"

You have one new voicemail.

"Dave, it's Barack. What the hell's going on over there? Your dinner party pals ringing up private tecs to pull mobile phone records of people crushed and burned to death in the Twin Towers? Seriously? That's not what the special relationship's all about. I am so pissed at you. Oh, and thanks for the tip about buying NewsInt stock - that was the retirement fund, Michelle's furious! She says you're not invited to The Hamptons this year. Sort your shit out."

You have one new voicemail.

"Hi! It's Dave! Great to hear from you! Listen, I am as SHOCKED and APPALLED as you are. I hardly know what to think. Andy told me he was a good guy! Obviously we're going to have to stamp all over this story. I've ordered some inquiries which will take months but make me look good. We're going to find a way to blame the previous administration, that's worked with everything else up til now. Anyway, great chatting and really hope to see you soon! Sam says love to Michelle! We ought to chat about Afghanistan too, but, you know, when you're not so busy. Byeeeee!"

You have one new voicemail.

"Rupert, it's Joe Ratzinger. What the fuck? Call me."

You have one new voicemail.

"Well, long time no talk! It's Tony. How are you doing? Dreadful times, of course. I just wanted to let you know you've my full support, and Cherie's too of course. She says do you need a lawyer? Ha ha, only joking. Well, a bit. Look, it's clear. Mistakes. Have been. Made. Thefactremains. You. Were the. PEOPLE'S. Editor. And therefore not responsible for whatever may have happened at the News of the World! Ha ha, Alistair told me to say that. He thought it was funny. Did you like it? Ought to look like I'm doing something in the Middle East this week, but tea soon, yeah? Ciao."

You have one new voicemail.

"This is Andy's lawyer. We'd like to take a statement from you. Please ring us back."

You have one new voicemail.

"Hi Rebekah. You're going to need to come down the Yard and answer some questions. Can we arrange some time this week? Obviously you'll need a lawyer. Oh, and by the way, don't worry too much - I paid it all into my wife's account."

You have one new voicemail.

"It's mum. You never ring me. I saw you on the news having dinner with someone. Is he your new boyfriend? He looks a bit old for you. Seeing as you obviously don't like the hat I've posted you something I found in Oxfam the other day. I don't know if it's a cape or a burqa, but it's got a big hood, looks very chic I thought. Do you know what you're doing for Christmas yet? Love mum."

You have one new voicemail.

"Beks, it's Dave. Look, sorry about this but I don't think we can do Sunday lunch. Sam's got one of her migraines coming on and Steve keeps talking about you being 'toxic'. I think he's singing a Britney Spears song but it doesn't sound good. Let's put it in the diary for another time, yeah? Maybe, I don't know, after the Olympics. I'm kind of busy til then. Er. Bye."

You have one new voicemail.

"Zis vill serve you reich! I mean right! You naughty, naughty girly. I sink you need ze spanking, yes? I sink all zat hair needs checking for ze lice. Dirty birdy. You do not deserve ze job! You vill come to vork for Uncle Max in his dungeon! Zere are lovely stripy uniforms and all is gut. Sehr gut. Ve vill correct you! You need ze punishment! Whoops, wife's home, bye..."

You have one new voicemail.

"Rupert, it's Alan. Magna cadunt, inflata crepant, tumefacta premuntur. Or pride comes before a fall, if you're Aussie. I'd just like to point out that we brought down the most popular English-language paper in the world, despite being one of the least popular. But don't worry, there's always bar work."

You have one new voicemail.

"Hey, gorgeous, Hugh here. I wish you'd been on Question Time with me. You're much prettier than that Harriet sort! Look, why don't we have a little dinner, talk about things, you can wear a nurse's uniform, maybe bring along a friend. Be fun. Talk soon. PS love you in that skirt."

You have one new voicemail.

"I was only the deputy editor, you cow."

You have one new voicemail.

"I am the Metatron, the voice of God. Yes, I know I sound like Alan Rickman, very funny. This is to let you know your service has been disconnected. It will take about six months. Not because it needs to, but because the Almighty enjoys dragging the pain out for as long as possible. In the meantime a variety of people will be charged, probably with corruption and perjury. Oh, and the Almighty can't come to this year's Christmas party, as She's going to be painting her nails. I would say 'see you around', but I don't think you'll be coming up here..."

You have one new voicemail.

"Eesh, I invented these things and I still can't get to grips with them... this is Beelzebub. I'll catch you later."

You have no more voicemails.

(With apologies to any semblance of reality.)

Letters to Lillys.

WELL, where the hell to start?

What a week in news it's been. Let's take it chronologically. Our mailbag begins with a totally gratuitous picture of male totty of the kind that really ought to be in newspapers more often.

Whoopsy, done it again. (This may be the moment to remind you all of the international rules of bagsy, and that I've already called it.)

Lucy said: "That's what I'm talking about..." Lesley added: "Oh my *swoons*" and Silver said: "Rawr!" Colin wisely decided to capitalise by saying: "I bet he smells of spitfire fuel and punching. I'm going to email that picture to the missus an hour before I go home."

Brian said:

"I don't see why a chap would be upset by your blog post. Blokes know that women want ...a man that smells like a James Hetfield chord progression, while giving them a fantastic, never ending seeing too, having just stomped the snot out of an aggressor, before making breakfast while discussing Camus' experience prior to writing The Rebel. Shortly before fixing any broken machinery in the house and then sorting out another vigorous seeing to. It is, after all, 2011, and I'd like to think that with that model of behaviour I was somehow getting something right."

Ed: Sorry, still thinking about the soldier. Spitfire fuel, you say? Mmm.

Then journalism had an embolism and we found out the News of the World's freelance private investigator Glenn Mulcaire had hacked into, and deleted messages from, missing schoolgirl Missy Dowler's voicemail. This defence of a reporter's rights - and responsibilities - in using the dark arts was fiercely debated.

Andrew said: "It's very complex maybe to complex for me. I can see it both ways, I want it to be done in some circumstances but not in others so who watches the watchers???" Liz said: "Just for once I don't agree with Foxy's blog." Nosk added: "Don't really have a problem with hacks and techniques, do have a problem with editors with no judgement or moral compass." Louise said: "I think the public concern is in trusting journos to make moral judgements on their behalf." And John added: "A news sub here. You're doing a good job; doing the right thing. I feel certain that many people feel this way."

But Ian said: "Journalists are not a state-sponsored federal agency, you bloody reporters are not above the law. Would you break into their house to get their answering machine?" Lucy said: "Your moral compass is very skewed, I would not hack the phone, I would try to get the evidence another way, a legal way." Emma added: "I usually agree with you...this time I'm afraid I don't...well you can't get on all the time!" And Louise pointed out: "No other profession is allowed to make moral judgements outside of law."

John said:

"Your stance on the NOTW story has massively disappointed me and in many ways angered me... Tobacco companies kill people and include a non-essential addictive ingredient. I would therefore never work for a tobacco company. If they tried to clean up their act I still could not work for a company that is effectively a mass murderer in the same way I could never join a newer, cuddlier version of the Nazi party. Some things are beyond contempt... The tabloids are so powerful that politicians were afraid to stop the illegal practices because of the threat of retribution - against them, their wives, their kids, or anyone close... Your one-eyed, self-serving, well-written articulate defence of people working in this field lessen you."

Sharon differed:

"What is really sad about all this is how it's very fast become an excuse for politicians (many of them still wearing red-faces from their last press/PR disaster) to spout hysterical outrage and call for the tabloid press to burned at the stake. A fuck up is a fuck up and, yes, it's a bad one. But the gutter press has its place - and it's down in the gutters looking for the things people have tried to flush away."

Ed: As the story moves more things will come to light which will, I'm sure, help us all to form views which at the moment can only be reactive. But I would say that, no matter how appalling the actions of a few may prove to be, they've not yet been linked to any deaths.

A few noticed an important date passed this week, marking the sixth anniversary of the 7/7 bomb attacks on London.

Tallulah said: "This is why I follow you. Don't always agree with you but every now & then you produce a GEM! Thnks."

Nerina said: "Damn, you've made me cry again." Josh added: "Anything with the tags 'fuck you, terror' is worth a read. Amazing article." Grumpy Old Woman said: "Neither is it cool to cry while at work but anyone I show your piece to will do the same if they've an ounce of that spirit."

Kyle had a bone to pick:

"Not even a mention of inaccuracies in the official report, or the families and victims' pleas for an independent inquest."

Ed: Can't please everyone, but I was gratified to see as many people read the 7/7 post as they did the one on the phone-hacking scandal. The world's not always shit.

And so we come to Saturday July 9, 2011, and today a 168-year-old newspaper is publishing its last-ever edition.

I think we can all agree that its final chapter has been one which tarnishes Fleet Street and its reputation. Whatever your opinion of the News of the World, the tabloids or Press in general, it was the English-speaking world's most successful newspaper and was read by millions who had a healthy human appetite for the stories it produced.

Had it not been so successful at entertaining us it could not have afforded the resources to throw into investigations and campaigns, from John Profumo in the 1960s to the Pakistan cricket scandal this summer, all of which have in some way been undeniably for the public good.

Maybe it could never have recovered; and then again, perhaps its owners should have tried.

Legendary newspaper editor Harold Evans used to tell his staff: "Don’t do anything to get a story you would be ashamed to tell your readers about afterwards."

In the midst of all the argument about who and how to regulate the Press, that rule seems to me to be the best we could possibly follow.

Have a good weekend everyone.

Foxy out.