Like all true romantics, I can’t believe Jerry has split with the Pacemaker. News that Rupert Murdoch and his wife, Jerry Hall, are to divorce contradicts the lyrics of their most famous hit, confirming that the News Corp boss does, in fact, walk alone. Or at least, alone but for the aid of state-of-the-art tissue engineering, the plasma of emerging-market teens, and the cloven orthopaedic brogues that mark out the real big shots at every barefoot billionaires’ retreat.
Alas, there has been almost zero elaboration on news of this major marital sundering, broken briefly by the New York Times on Wednesday night, apparently after Jerry did not attend Rupert’s annual summer party in London. Indeed, there has been almost zero coverage of the party itself, given that guests included local supplicant Boris Johnson and, reportedly, a number of cabinet ministers. Are they all still cabinet ministers this morning? Hard to say. On the plus side, the prime minister will have been able to seek pre-authorisation for installing his wife as party chairman, were a vacancy to suddenly open up, or at the very least try and get Carrie a job as executive producer at Murdoch’s TalkTV. (More on that ratings black hole shortly.) But a lack of party pictures is a shame, particularly given today’s electoral developments. It feels much too long since we’ve seen Rupert in the same photo as the prime minister, stretched across the frame like the anamorphic skull in Holbein’s The Ambassadors.
