To read the posh papers you'd think Britain was losing the Crown Jewels.
Suddenly Kelv is a loveable character, a great institution. The airy-fairies who live in Hampstead and Islington are saying he was a mighty fine guy.
Some of these air-brains are even calling him a genius.
Maybe it's because Kelv's tabloid has turned on the Tories. The wishy-washies of the Guardian and the Independent love a bit of Tory-bashing. Not to mention some sex on the side.
But that can't be the whole story. The fact is that our Kelv was a bit of a character. A bit of the Arthur Daley, a bit of the Delboy, a bit of any bloke making a loud noise in a south London pub.
Great - so long as you can move away sharpish.
Sure, he had a sense of humour. 'Freddie Starr ate my hamster' was his favourite headline. Scousers p****d themselves laughing when he said they were 'Scum'. Argies thought 'Gotcha]' the funniest thing since sliced Hovis. Elton John laughed all the way to the bank. His staff bit their tongues when he called them c***s.
Sure, he was a genius. So was Goebbels. Sure, he was a character. So was Attila the Hun.
The Sun is the most popular daily paper in Britain. It doesn't like luvvies, Frogs, social workers, pinkos, scum.
Rupert Murdoch has now kicked him upstairs to run satellite television.
It's good to know British culture is in the right hands.Reuse content