Last Saturday, glass of wine in hand, I sat down after work and composed a WhatsApp message inviting friends and colleagues to a launch party for a book I’ve written.
As I went through my contacts, merrily clicking on people’s names, my finger hovered over one or two. I’ve collected a few numbers over the years – but it’s fair to say what with one thing and another I’m not directly in touch with all of them.
Still, I thought, it’s only a book launch, and it’s free wine. Besides, we’re all grown-ups. What harm can it do? I pressed send.
My long-suffering ex, Michael Gove, used to refer to me sometimes as ‘Mrs Blurt’ for my unerring ability to say the wrong thing at the wrong time to the wrong people. And he’s right. I can display extreme gaucheness in social situations and have this bizarre tendency to get people and faces confused.
I once, for example, spent an evening chatting to Alan Yentob utterly convinced that he was Salman Rushdie. Or was it the other way round? I can’t be sure.
Sometimes, if I’m lucky, people think it’s a complicated and possibly very cunning double-bluff; quite often they just stare at me in disbelief and mild horror.
Anyway, Mrs Blurt has struck again, because within a few hours it began to dawn on me that instead of doing something called a ‘broadcast message’ (which allows you to send the same message to multiple contacts individually and means recipients can’t see who else is in the group), I had just done a common-or-garden WhatsApp group, which meant everyone could see everyone else. With hindsight, perhaps putting Piers Morgan, Kirstie Allsopp, Emily Maitlis, Nadine Dorries, Rachel Johnson, Kemi Badenoch, Christopher Biggins, Giles Coren, Andrew Roberts, Jeremy Vine (no relation) and over 100 more of some of the most mischievous people on the planet in the same group chat was not the most sensible or tactful thing to do.
But it has been an awful lot of fun.
Piers Morgan, Kemi Badenoch and over 100 more of some of the most mischievous people on the planet were put in the same group chat
Then Piers Morgan popped up and posted a pre-order link for his book Woke Is Dead, which comes out in October
It was my friend Sean Langan who started it. He is an intrepid documentary maker who was kidnapped and held hostage by the Taliban for several months a few years ago.
Despite this horrific ordeal, he remains a stoically cheerful fellow, with a sparky sense of humour. ‘Just checking,’ he wrote, ‘Is this one of those JD Vance/Pete Hegseth-type group chats?’ Jeremy Vine chimed in: ‘Is this about the Houthis?’
Then Piers Morgan popped up. ‘Well, while I’ve got you all…’ he wrote, and posted a pre-order link for his book (Woke Is Dead), which comes out in October.
Biggins added his congratulations, followed by Dorries. Vine again: ‘I’m definitely coming because I want to thank you for all these phone numbers.’
At which point a sensible friend messaged me separately, suggesting that perhaps I should remove Badenoch from the group as she might not want everyone having her number. I panicked and did so.
Too late. Eagle-eyed Morgan quipped: ‘I think the key denominator of who is really important in this group is how quickly Sarah deletes their number.’
My friend Sean Macaulay in America woke up. He’s a successful screenwriter who also happens to be Gordon Brown’s brother-in-law. ‘This group has inspired me to start work on my own memoir, How Not to Be A Political Brother-in-Law [my book is called How Not To Be A Political Wife],’ he wrote. ‘Chapter 1: In which our hero gets his posterior firmly squeezed by an exotically-fuelled admirer (and future MP, no less) at the Gove-Vine nuptials in France.’
True story, by the way, it’s in my book. The bottom-squeezer himself then lamented that he would be unable to attend: ‘Sadly, I won’t be there to have another go.’ At which point Stephen Fry left.
On it chortled, quip after quip. This was fast becoming much more fun than any physical party, and so much better since it didn’t require putting on a dress, getting a blow-dry or wearing uncomfortable shoes (I know how Piers likes to make an effort).
On Tuesday, Giles Coren wrote about the group in The Times, describing it as ‘pretty much every journalist, shagger, alcoholic and party animal in London’. Harsh but fair. Then Jeremy invited me on to his Radio 2 show to discuss accidental WhatsApps – and finally Big Bear Bozza himself mentioned it in his Daily Mail column yesterday.
The only other time Mrs Blurt has caused this much mayhem was the week after the Brexit referendum, when I accidentally sent an email intended for Michael to the wrong Henry (he had two special advisers called Henry). This third Henry was not someone I knew, but his name somehow popped up, and I failed to spot the error.
This rogue Henry leaked the email, at which point I was accused of all sorts of nefarious machinations and dubbed ‘Lady Macbeth’ by several rival news outlets.
This experience has been a much happier one. It’s made me realise how lucky I am to be on WhatsApping terms with so many brilliant, funny, clever and witty people, and Piers Morgan. My book editor also thinks I’m some kind of marketing genius. Let’s hope no one tells her the truth.
A misstep in space
It strikes me that there are two types of feminists in the world: those who think that going up in space in a suggestively-shaped rocket owned by a billionaire in skintight onesies and expensive blow-dries, like Katy Perry did, is a giant step for womankind; and those who put their lives and reputations on the line to protect the rights of women and girls. I know whose side I’m on.
As the residents of Birmingham continue to fester in their own waste, a reminder – ahead of next week’s local elections – that fully 28 Government ministers (including Deputy Prime Minister Angela Rayner) are members of the Unite union leading the bin strike.
Cultural treat at Easter
Happy Easter. If you’ve had enough of calorie-laden celebrations, such as these Marks & Spencer dippy egg-filled hot cross buns, and fancy something more culturally nutritious, I can’t recommend the Siena exhibition at the National Gallery enough.
The Catholic Church may not be everyone’s cup of tea – but when it comes to artistic inspiration, few things can match the sheer beauty of the early Renaissance.
Newsnight normally loves nothing more than a crunchy court ruling (Roe v Wade overturned, or prorogation, or Gina Miller). But for some reason last week’s Supreme Court ruling on women merited nowt more than a cursory mention at the end of Wednesday’s show and zilch on Thursday.
Now the show is conveniently off air until Tuesday. I wonder what it could possibly be about this victory for women that they don’t want to talk about?
