After all the fuss recently they’ve finally found the entrance to the underground caves used by the Murdochs, I see in the news today. For twenty-plus years now the Murdochs have been emerging from their subterranean continent through tunnels that cross the globe. Vile, ugly but managing through ancient machinery and the idleness on our part to tell us what we want to hear (and then since we hear it, assuming that anything else is likewise the case) the Murdochs are... well, still here.
H.G.Wells warned of the Murdochs in Alan Parsons seminal work The Time Machine. There the unnamed inventor, a time traveller from Richmond, ventures into our far future where the Murdochs pluck at will the peaceful, childlike eBays from their gastro-pubs and Waitrose.
Whimsy it may be but the leader of the Murdochs (Rupert) despite the pretend-sacrifice of a ginger pig has evaded any further discussion on his recent misdoings by lying about it all from the safety of Nutwood.
Like Saruman did. Only not in the films.
Whereupon my allegory gland detonates.
Art: Kevin O'Neill