Granted, it might just be a rumour...

Being on the far fringes of the media industries, I miss out on events where the movers and shakers get together. So I'm at an Ealing comedy club for 5 November, as the token parent and straight man to all the embittered divorced dad gags. Meanwhile, at a Crouch End bonfire party, various explanations for a recent media sensation are circulating. They involve a third and final warning for infidelity, Guy Black of the Press Complaints Commission, and copious amounts of Columbian marching powder. Tempers got frayed and one of those involved waded in and started throwing punches.
You couldn't make it up...