It is a truth universally acknowledged (I can’t think of any quotable Shakespeare off the top of my head but I feel that today ought to have a vaguely literary bent) that when you let the slumbering behemoth in your pants (that’s not an allusion to size or anything, stop getting so excited) drive your communications strategy all sorts of awkward are bound to arise. Your downstairs area doesn’t make decisions quite as smart as you might initially believe.
Not to be smug or anything (since when have I ever enjoyed being able to say I told you so? That definitely doesn’t sound like me. Overly righteous and all that) but this is precisely how our former Prime Minister got himself into something of a pickle so recently. He’s in a committed long term relationship and all that but every now and then that isn’t enough for some sorts.
I’m not making any allegations of extra marital affairs, that sort of thing rather depends on your personal definition (suffice to say that I would be several kinds of incredibly pissed off should someone attempt to pull this sort of nonsense on me). But fantasy ran away with texting missives to the point that everything became really rather hot and heavy. It helped that no one could see anyone else’s physical appearances or facial expressions.
But this sort of thing inevitably will out. It’s just how the world works, Murphy’s law or whatever you want to call it. However, certain individuals are able to at the very least try to stem the flow. For a certain price of course. Mr Blair was actually grateful to be able to shell out five million pounds so that the rest of existence will never know that he started texting salacious things to a plethora of people with nothing else better to do with their Friday nights.