the stillness the dancing

Morning at the offices of the galactic empire, styled News Corp International.
Rupert Murdock is sitting at his desk.
A minion enters.
Rupert beams.
It is his favourite minion.
"What have you got for me today Clytus?" enquires Rupert beamingly.
Clytus proffers him a sheet of paper.
"It's an obscure blog in the SK system Your Majesty," he explains smoothly. "Its fans consist of five Jihadis and a Korean googlebot. They refer to it as The Heelers Diaries."
Rupert accepts the printout and begins reading.
He frowns.
Clytus cannot resist putting in his twenty billion dollars in debt's worth.
He positively simpers as he speaks.
You might almost think he was himself a fan of the Heelers Diaries.
"This Heelers says we deliberately sought to ruin Jimmy Saville from beyond the grave merely to distract public attention from legal enquiries into our corruption of police officers, our subversion of politicians and our hacking into the mobile phones of dead school girls. He says News Corp International should be broken up under anti trust legislation. He says you and the other Murdocks should be prevented from owning any media outlet on the planet above the size of a Chinese wall poster due to your neo feudal attempts to hijack political and judicial processes in Great Britain and elsewhere. He says a Seizure of Assets bill should be passed specifically to prevent the Murdocks from owning anything. He says..."
Rupert raises a weary hand.
"I get the point," he says tiredly.
"What will you do with this Heelers?" wonders Clytus with mollifying sycophancy.
"I like to play with things before anihilation," murmurs Rupert the Merciless stroking his goatee. Then with sudden and improbable venom he cries out: "Puny Heelers who can save you now!"