How Paul Dacre became the Norma Desmond of journalism

To the executive offices of Associated Newspapers, publishers of the Daily Mail, and a story that you sense will end with a screenwriter floating dead in a swimming pool. For while a certain faded newspaper executive’s office is physically located in the Associated building on London’s High Street Kensington, I’m afraid that, in spiritual terms, this individual resides on Sunset Boulevard. And some shots have been fired.

But who is this descending the staircase, wild-eyed and writing excruciatingly humiliating letters to the Financial Times? Why, I believe – yes, it looks like Paul Dacre, forgotten star of the silent newspaper era. You know, before everyone pivoted to video. Then pivoted back again, having made somewhat less of a success of it than Hollywood did with the talkies.

Anyway, let us bring up the lights and hear what the former Daily Mail editor is saying as he emotes furiously down the stairs of his dreamworld: “You see, this is my life! It always will be! Just us, the printing presses, and all those wonderful readers out there in the dark. All right, Lord Rothermere – I’m ready for my closeup.” Wonderful. Tragic, camp, hilarious – of course. But wonderful. Legends don’t die; they just stew in the C-suite.

But forgive me, for I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s widen our shot from the corpse – perhaps my own, after writing this – and go back in time a bit. Last Saturday’s Financial Times featured a letter written to the paper by Dacre, and it was impossible to behold this document for even a moment without the words reassembling themselves into Norma Desmond’s famous speech. The missive was prompted by the paper’s interview with the current Mail editor, Geordie Greig, who, over the course of a lunch, chanced to mention that 265 advertisers who had deserted the Mail under Dacre have returned to the fold since his successor assumed the editorship. Alas, the suggestion that he was commercially dislikable – the only kind of dislike that matters – was rather too much for our silent star.

And so to the letter. “Admirable chap he may be,” runs Dacre’s first blatant euphemism for his favourite four-letter word, “but Geordie Greig is as economic with the actualité as your paper is in reporting Brexit.” Oooooh! Since digressions seem to be permitted, I do hope that, even in seclusion, Dacre is still attended by one faithful retainer/damaged former news editor, who forges daily fan mail to him and assures him: “Madame is the greatest star of all.”

Related: Paul Dacre's position at Mail in doubt after attack on Geordie Greig

Anyway, back to madame. “He claims 265 advertisers came back to the Daily Mail in his year as editor,” she hisses. “In fact, far more than that number left during the same period.” Don’t you just adore dirty linen – the only type of washing that isn’t a lady’s job. In similarly relaxed style, Dacre goes on to fret to the FT about “your writer’s ludicrous caricature of the Mail before I stepped aside” – before you what, sorry? – “before I stepped aside at 70 after 26 years in the chair”. It’s somewhat disappointing that the FT headlined this letter “A solid start, but Greig has some way to go yet”, when it clearly should have gone for: “I AM big – it was the papers that got small.”

Dacre goes on to list his achievements with the Daily Mail down the years – billions in profits, increased circulation, successful campaigns and a number of much-loved but dated Cecil B DeMille pictures. No mention of all the unvaccinated kiddies, but perhaps the FT edited him for space, or a late-breaking letter from a sustainable businesswoman.

“As for Mr Greig,” comes the next clear euphemism for Dacre’s favourite word, “I congratulate him for making a solid start as editor and continuing so many of those campaigns but I’m sure he’ll forgive me for suggesting that he (or his PR) defers his next lunch with the FT until he has notched up a small fraction of those journalists’ achievements.” And with that, it is signed: “Paul Dacre, chairman and editor in chief, Associated Newspapers.”

Well then. No matter how kindly we may wish to look upon former idols, this letter has more than a touch of the messy bitches to it. In fact, as a show of weakness, it is almost too much. To put it in terms I know he would appreciate: the former Mail editor seems to have had some sort of dignity malfunction. Yes, outspoken Paul Dacre has accidentally flashed a bit of weaknessboob there, giving onlookers much more than they bargained for. Stunned newspaper fans – all five of them – commented how Dacre seemed not to care who saw as he flaunted his vulnerability in a revealing letter that left nothing to the imagination.

Furthermore, that doesn’t seem to be the end of it. Indeed, it was an exquisite torment to read a follow-up story on Wednesday, headlined: “Paul Dacre’s position at Mail in doubt after attack on Geordie Greig.” In many ways, we don’t need to pay any attention to the article in question, on account of it having appeared in the Guardian, a newspaper neither Dacre nor I would ever dream of having in the house. On the other hand, we have both had one of our secretarial retinue print out a hard copy of the article from the online version of that publication, from which I learn that senior Associated executives have been “infuriated” by Dacre’s flash of weaknessboob (again I paraphrase). Words such as “unprofessional” are used.

According to this report: “The row has focused attention on Dacre’s actual role at the publisher of the Daily Mail. He signed the letter to the FT using the title of ‘chairman and editor-in-chief of Associated Newspapers’.” And why shouldn’t he? “The title was regarded by many internally as a way of honouring a long-serving employee rather than an active editorial role.”

Oh. Oh dear. That sounds TOO awful. Worse than when Paramount invites Norma Desmond in and she thinks she’s getting a movie, but in fact it just wishes to rent her classic automobile. The report concludes: “The new twist in the dispute between Dacre and Greig will put pressure on [Mail proprietor] Rothermere to resolve the issue of Dacre’s status. One company insider said the whole point of giving Dacre a title was to keep him in the tent and avoid the possibility of him becoming an external critic. ‘Clearly,’ they said, ‘that hasn’t worked.’”

Early days, early days. Still, if it doesn’t come good for Dacre in the executive suite, he does have other irons in the fire. A couple of months ago, it was announced that Channel 4 had commissioned a landmark series detailing “Paul Dacre’s worldview”. I am, of course, absolutely dying to see this show, which I’m intrigued to understand will be more than a 60-minute looped shot of a Spitfire shooting up a Viagra factory.

So yes, all very promising, but don’t call the programme a “comeback”. As Norma warns Joe Gillis: “I hate that word. It’s a return, a return to the millions of people who have NEVER forgiven me for deserting the screen.” Well, quite. I feel absolutely sure that Dacre’s best days are ahead of him, just like the UK’s after the leaving the EU, or a single mother trying to re-enter the job market after having a baby. But if not, this current performance should serve as a delight to all – a glorious swansong, if you will, from Fleet Street’s finest.