Way back in the mid-1960s, during a quiet summer, a former journalist turned public relations man persuaded the chairman of a public company to conduct a search for the Loch Ness monster.
Quiet summers used to be known in Fleet Street as the “silly season”. One day, the PR man responsible for what was essentially a publicity stunt was called into the chairman’s office. The chairman, a retired general, was in a state of panic. “What on earth are we going to do if we find the monster?” he said.
