God bless America, News Corp's home sweet home

There were rather too many violins playing Waltzing Matilda last week when that great ex-Australian Rupert Murdoch announced that his News Corporation was also going to be a great ex-Australian company. No more annual general meetings in Adelaide. Off we go to the USA (and to Delaware actually, perhaps filling the Conrad Black memorial hole in the ground). But - golly! - what a terrible wrench after more than half a century of mounting glory in Oz.

So why go now, 20 years after Rupert took American citizenship? Put away your handkerchiefs. Because relocating will allow News Corp into Standard & Poor's 500 Index, where (with a current market value of $51.2 billion, or £27.9 billion) it would currently rank 48th largest, nestling between US Bancorp, the eighth-biggest American bank, and Wyeth, which makes Advil painkillers. Because you can raise much more money that way. Because US shareholders like their Stars and Stripes flying over Wall Street. Because there's a succession to secure and defend (and Lachlan and James and Rupert's wife Wendi aren't exactly cobbers through and through). Because John Malone keeps knocking ominously at the door marked takeover. Because simplifying your affairs is better than wrapping them up when you're 73. And because, if you want to play Mr Big, you might as well have a profile to match.

So there was Rupert again a few days ago, chatting away to a Sydney radio station and blithely, perplexingly buoyant as ever about George Bush's re-election chances. 'He's going to walk it,' he said. 'The economy's doing extremely well and there is an international crisis. You've got to understand, America was attacked: 9/11 changed America.'

What? Iraqi mayhem boosts Bush campaign? But the News Corp belief is total. George W, over the last few years, has made quite a bit of traditional Murdoch cash-routing through the Cayman Islands redundant. George is a friend and ally in need. Now here comes George's most devout supporter, laying his kangaroo down, sport.

Spite with your revenge, sir?

Seven months ago I wrote here that Jasper Gerard of the Sunday Times was a 'charming and talented wordsmith'. Sorry, I forgot to mention his brass neck. Last week he bade untender goodbyes to Alistair Cooke and Peter Ustinov, pointing out 'the tarnish on two national treasures'. Cooke, apparently, had once lamented the 'snobbery and seediness of English life', while Ustinov was just a 'cuddly, hammy, actor', more 'jolly sausage than serious fish'. Why, says Jasper grandly, 'I conducted his last interview, just prior to the Iraq war' and, in spite of his oozing affability, 'balked' at his political naivety.

That 'snobbery and seediness' quote might just as well be from R. Murdoch, not A. Cooke: US emigrant hearts beating as one. The interview that Jasper 'conducted' - full of descriptions of 'views of Mont Blanc' and Ustinov's 'nervous smiles' - was a colourful con. Gerard wasn't there in the 'long, low farmhouse by Lake Geneva'; he was 800 miles away in London, yacking down a telephone to Sir Peter. Ustinov, disgusted by the result, then denounced him on stage at an international media conference.

Thus does petty revenge come around much later, a dish served cold. 'Naughty rather than wicked,' said Gerard charmingly, once exposed. No: nasty, and rather seedy.