Wow. As I’m writing this, Wendi Deng is scanning the House of Commons committee room, searching for any additional assailants, as her husband and son-in-law are testifying before the Culture, Media and Sport select committee. Ten minutes earlier, she launched herself like a missile at a pie-throwing protestor, delivering a stinging blow to his face. It was something to behold: the tiger wife in full battle cry. Moments later, dollops of shaving foam were dripping down the hapless protestor’s face. Not just a loyal and devoted wife, but her family’s head of security as well.
The stupidity of Jonnie Marbles, the anti-cuts protestor in question, is staggering. Didn’t he realise that his stunt threatened to upstage any damaging admissions forced out of the Murdochs by the committee? Not only that, but he achieved what no one thought possible in the midst of this scandal: he transformed a member of the Murdoch clan into a heroine. It’s the sort of brilliant PR wheeze dreamt up by Matthew Freud, Elisabeth Murdoch’s husband, to distract attention from a story likely to embarrass one of his clients. Marbles — a leftie, no less — managed to do more for the Murdochs in five seconds than any number of highly paid advisors could manage in a year. When he gets out of jail they should put him on the payroll.
But how about that tiger wife? This time next week, thousands of Young Republicans will have taken down their posters of Ann Coulter and replaced them with posters of Wendi Deng. She’ll become the Farrah Fawcett of her generation: Rupert’s Angel. What man wouldn’t want her in his corner? Her balletic leap — graceful as well as fierce — reminded me of one of the aerial combat sequences in Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon.
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