It was most odd. Four decades after I’d walked into the Sun to start my first shift as a news sub editor, I was sitting in a small theatre in the heart of La La Labour-land (the Almeida in Corbyn’s Islington) watching a play where I knew all the characters, as I both worked with them and worshipped them.
There was Rupert Murdoch. There was Sun editor Larry Lamb, his deputy Bernard Shrimsley, Page Three photographer Beverley Goodway, and even production supremo Ray Mills who, due to his northern background, was known as Biffo — Big Ignorant Fucker From Oldham. How much would that acronym be worth at an employment tribunal today?
The ensemble had been put together by James Graham (who wrote the political hit This House) for his new offering Ink, which details how a combo of Rupert’s restless energy and Lamb’s creative talent saw the Sun go from a failing 650,000 circulation to 4,000,000, passing its bitter rival the Daily Mirror and destroying its claim to be the legitimate voice of the working classes.
The play is set in the 1970s, as was This House, and was immaculately researched by Graham, so much so that it often had the feel of a documentary. Although I was too far down the ladder to be privy to the conversations between Rupert and Larry, their dialogue had the ring of truth about it.
I could actually hear Rupert (Bertie Carvel) saying this line when talking to Larry (Richard Coyle): ‘You’re still trying to beat them by fighting on their terms. Let it go. Do you know when I hear “codes” and “traditions”, I hear the rules as written by those who benefit from them to stop others treading on their turf.’
I’m sure he would have said that then and would say it again today.
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