Here’s the thing about super-injunctions. They’re neither super, in nor at a junction. They make a mockery of freedom of the press and they are proven (scientifically) to be the worst way to keep a secret.
I certainly do not agree with many of the current tactics used by the press, and I find much of the gossip mongering that exists in the world quite distasteful (though, like with caviar, I will admit to engaging in it at times). However, it is much more appropriate to clarify the laws on phone hacking and punish those who have broken the law. I don’t know that we’ll ever be able to change the public’s thirst for gossip, but rich people paying a lot of money to keep their secrets is certainly not going to slow down the desire to know about others’ private lives. In fact, it’s only going to do the opposite.
People love juicy information. If you pay lots of money to keep a secret, ipso facto (look it up), that secret must be pretty damn juicy. That logic isn’t hard to follow. So in many ways, super-injunctions just make people want to know your secret even more. Plus, once they find it out, they can judge you, not only for the secret itself (and why shouldn’t they, for clearly you are condemning your own behaviour by hiding it), but for the act of gagging the press.
And the thing is: they will find out. A super-injunction may delay it, but, let me assure you, all will be revealed. Adolf Hitler had a hell of a lot of power in his time, but did that stop us from finding out that he was 1. uni-testicular and 2. an occasional partaker in a vegetarian diet? No, that power did not keep his secrets for him. It might be your own guilt that makes you confess. Maybe an Arabic translator will stumble across the sensational detail next to your name, while going through Osama’s papers. It might even be a careless remark made by your three-year-old child about that time he caught “Daddy doing something unseemly.” The point is: the world’s going to find out eventually.
Therefore, in the interest of encouraging other celebrities to take responsibility for their own behaviour and stop relying on their money to hide it away, I shall confess all my “dirty deeds.” I’m not proud of them (well, not all of them), but I am proud that I have neither abused the legal system to hide them nor consulted Max Clifford to deal with them.
1. Yes, I did sleep with Fidel Castro, but it meant nothing to me nor to the Cuban Missile Crisis.
2. I once paid a prostitute to the leave the area as I was expecting a foreign dignitary for tea and wanted to give the impression that my locale was whore-free.
3. Only 5% of the dancing was mine.
4. I spent some of D.B. Cooper’s money.
5. It was I who let the dogs out.
Everyone Needs an Algonquin 
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