Mr Paisley rose. Tall fella. He has his father’s shoulders and skull-shape and Northern Irish accent. As I say, the larynx does not yet have the entrancing, papery creak but it is still a strong, clear voice, the Ulster uplift giving it a tone of disbelief.
He asked Mrs Miller if she was truly convinced that attitudes at the BBC had changed since Savile’s day.
‘Just a matter of weeks ago,’ he said, ‘We had one of their senior “talent” caught in photographs in the grip of a young woman with his hands down her trousers in a public place and gets away with it with nothing more than a shrug of the shoulders and a silly excuse. Is the culture really changing?’
He was referring, lest you forget, to that photograph of Andrew Marr lunging at a female BBC colleague in a Soho street late at night, slipping a flattened hand down the back of her jeans to have a right old rummage. The House listened to Mr Paisley with exquisite horror
But then the subs on the Independent boobed by surmounting a picture of Daddy over Andy MacSmith’s comment. Will Lord Bannside sue? After all, he has never been guilty of publicity seeking for its own sake, has he?