“[There] are a lot of self-serving voices coming on, those that are involved in newspapers, those that are involved in people trying to get this story out. And frankly I think we have to start differentiating between the public interest, and a proper definition of what that means, and stories that the media decide the public people might be interested in… it’s not the same thing.”—Alastair Campbell, former director of communications for Labour
It happened. It finally happened and I knew one day that it would. Call it a… self-fulfilling prophecy.
There’s a fortress around my heart. The organ that I once wore on my sleeve has been restored to its rightful place, deep within the cavity in my chest. It’s been fortified with stone and mortar. It comes equipped with a forged steel gate at it’s entrance; a moat surrounds the perimeter, with some of the most fearsome creatures lurking within the waters. Hundreds of archers with the eyesight of a hawk sit perched on top of the outer walls, covering all suspicious movement from the apex of the horizon to the moat below. Within these cold walls are some of the most bloodthirsty warriors man has ever known, ready to give their life to protect the contents within, should the security of the fortress ever breached…
Looking back on it, this was inevitable. I suppose I’m still having issues believing that I’m desireable but it’s worse than that. I admit: I’m scared to try again. I’m scared to let another woman in. I just don’t want to get hurt again. I’d rather be lonely than go through any heartache again, quite frankly. Perhaps this is just a phase; perhaps someone will come along one day and I’ll be forced to let my guard down once again. I’ll go through the motions, I’ll fight the feelings, and then eventually I’ll surrender all and fall in love again.
But until then - if such a day ever comes about - this heart is now a fortress.
PM Jim Hacker:Don't tell me about the press. I know exactly who reads the papers: The Daily Mirror is read by people who think they run the country, The Guardian is read by people who think they ought to run the country, The Times is read by people who actually do run the country, The Daily Mail is read by the wives of the people who run the country, The Financial Times is read by people who own the country, The Morning Star is read by people who think the country ought to be run by another country and the Daily Telegraph is read by people who think it is.
Sir Humphrey:Prime Minister, what about the people who read the Sun?
Bernard Wooley:Sun readers don't care who runs the country, as long as she's got big tits.