Name: Jupert.
Age: 143.
Appearance: Suddenly, into our lives.
Jupert? Is it a new perfume? No.
A modern, non-gender-specific reboot of Rupert the Bear? No.
Something to do with hipsters? No. It is the portmanteau name of a new celebrity couple.
Jennifer Lawrence and Rupert Grint have got together? Wow, that’s inspiring news for gingers everywhere! No. It’s Jerry Hall and Rupert Murdoch.
What is? The new celebrity couple. Jerry Hall and Rupert Murdoch. Jupert. After weeks of rumours, they finally appeared in public together at the Rugby World Cup final. They wore Australia scarves. He gave her a kiss. Australia lost, but onlookers said that nothing could taint their raptures.
Onlookers? All right, me. I guessed that bit.
I feel a nameless unhappiness creeping over me. Can you explain it? Their raptures or your unhappiness?
I suspect the two are inextricably linked. OK. The relationship – aged multimillionaire and less-aged model – is always one that prompts misgivings.
Doubts about the purity of intent? Reflections on the potential for commodification in all human endeavour, even, and especially, the supposedly evanescent workings of the heart? Exactly. Plus, he’s Rupert Murdoch.
And she seems so lovely. Too good for Mick Jagger. Stayed with him all those years while he shagged around and made her miserable. Only left when she discovered he had that secret 16-year-old daughter with someone. Yes.
So there’s the depressing thought that with age has come no greater wisdom or feelings of self-worth, the implicit promise of life upon which we all depend? This, too, is Jupert’s gift to us.
Is there anything we can do about it? Make her less Jerry Hally-y? Him less Rupert Murdoch-y? Not really.
So, we must endure? For as long as they do, yes.
And how long might that be, d’you reckon? Well, the good news is that the average multimillionaire-model relationship is not known for its longevity.
And the bad news? It might give him a new lease of a life lived at the very of edge of kindness, ethics and compassion, and keep him going, joyfully, into his 90s.
I feel a nameless unhappiness creeping over me again. I know. I know.
Do say: Jerry, we have to talk
Don’t say: What’s your secret, Rupert?
