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An unlikely place to get a smack

Strange how selectively we look at what goes on in the world. In SA, when we complain about poor standards of policing or democratic process, we would point to Britain for how things should be.

But some time ago I saw with my own eyes something truly incredible. A rich but frail octogenarian, Rupert Murdoch, was questioned by a parliamentary committee. In stormed an out-of-work entertainer and attacked him.

It was an attack with an improvised custard pie, but an attack nonetheless. Where did this happen? Inside the mother of all houses of parliament.

And who rushed to his defence? The police? No. The victim’s wife took a swing at the assailant.

Nobody commented on the incident. Was it because a Murdoch paper was suspected of phone hacking?

Did people forget that the worst paparazzi is a fair price to pay for freedom of the press? Or did they forget Murdoch’s past achievements? (Before Murdoch took over Sky TV, a newspaper headline in London asked: “What is the difference between Sky and the Loch Ness Monster?” The answer was: “More people have seen the monster.”)

Being attacked in parliament and your wife your only security! Surely this happens in SA, not England.

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