Magazine article New Statesman (1996)

Jeremy, Hunted

Magazine article New Statesman (1996)

Jeremy, Hunted

Article excerpt

The Minister for Murdoch, Jeremy Hunt, is limping like a wounded wildebeest on the edge of the cabinet herd. It's a lucky break for Andrew Lansley the quack doctor, the diary confused Theresa May, and even innumerate George Osborne. The press pack changing course to pursue Hunt relieved the pressure on his hounded colleagues, if not the Prime Minister, who was dragged kicking and screaming to the House of Commons.

Lansley, the Unhealthy Secretary, was spotted smiling in the precincts of Westminster for the first time since Nye Bevan was around. The oleaginous Hunt's defence that he barely knows his good friends Rupert and James jarred with an appearance last May at a parliamentary Press Gallery luncheon. Then, in more innocent times, the Culture Secretary quipped that James moving to New York meant he needed to be aware of a five hour time difference when calling to get speeches cleared. Close Tory News Corp ties were cemented, Hunt added, by both he and Old Man Murdoch taking Chinese wives. But I doubt that Hunted will laugh at his own jokes when he's summoned before the Leveson inquiry.

Theresa May, by the way, has an unflattering nickname. Behind her back, the kitten heeled Home Secretary is called Imelda May by boys and girls in blue seething over pay freezes, slashed allowances and thinning ranks.

The truncheon carrying informant grumbled that at least the Filipina politician with a shoe fetish stuffed the wallets of police officers guarding her.

Likes to splash the cash, that William Hague. …

Search by... Author
Show... All Results Primary Sources Peer-reviewed

Oops!

An unknown error has occurred. Please click the button below to reload the page. If the problem persists, please try again in a little while.