Why all the hatred for Andrew Gilligan? His story was essentially correct

It strikes me, as I follow the Hutton inquiry, that almost any human activity can be made to appear questionable, even dodgy. I think of my – not untypical – hurried departure for London yesterday morning. Already late, I filled the dog’s water bowl directly from a jug, though I knew it needed washing out; threw a bank statement into the bin unopened; ate half a chocolate bar left by one of my sons on the kitchen table; and induced the taxi driver to break the speed limit as we raced to the railway station, where I just caught my train, and thereby accomplished my mission.

If, though, something had gone wrong – if I had fallen on to the railway line or inadvertently pushed an elderly lady on to it – could not my behaviour have been represented as systematically irresponsible, indicative of some character flaw and in some way setting off a train of events that was bound to end in disaster? Might not a sneering QC have succeeded in persuading others that I had recklessly disregarded my health, let down my dog, my children and my family, besides flouting the law and abusing an innocent Bangladeshi taxi driver? I have a similar sense watching Andrew Gilligan, the BBC reporter, being slowly deconstructed.