Just as every cop is a criminal

One of the greatest fear of the journalist is to suddenly find yourself in a headlock under the long arm of the law.

We are happy to sit smugly in the court press box with our notepads, watching a procession of the criminal underclass get their comeuppance. But the moment it is even suggested our seat could be shifted to the dock while an unhappy restaurant owner's lawyer draws big red circles around errors in your copy, we suddenly develop a fearsome aversion to the entire judicial process.

The smallest mistake or improper suggestion can cost a publication hundreds of thousands of pounds in libel damages (for a recent example see everyone's favourite orgy-lover Max Mosley - just don't mention the war).

So how do we avoid being dragged through the courts by outraged celebs and business owners? The simplest answer, and one I subscribe to where possible, is don't make stuff up. If you can't verify something then don't print it, simple. Not only does it save you a small fortune in lawyers' fees, but it will also mean your publication maintains a reputation for accurate and truthful news.

But what if you hear something that is an absolute dynamite story, but you can't prove it? The day was (and I wasn't actually in journalism on this day, but I've heard talk) when such a story would be dropped and the journalist would return to his desk (there were no female reporters on that day - it was a man's world), head hung, to begin work on a story about how some crackpot scientist has predicted people will be able to carry phones around with them in the future.

Then some forward-thinking hack, a journalistic Einstein, one who undoubtedly is among the few figures of our generation to earn the epithet 'genius', came up with a solution which would save us ever having to worry about nasty old libel again. This divine device is known by many names but seems to most commonly appear under the title 'wicked whispers'.

You know the type of thing I'm talking about - short pieces that start with things like 'which boyband member...' or 'which soap star...' and go on to detail some outrageous celebrity behaviour which, if directly attributed to an individual would see the publication up before the bar faster than you can say "massive out of court settlement."

But have no fear loveable tabloid editors. For with no identification there can be no libel and the company lawyers can remain happily in their offices focusing on ways to lay off employees without the costly bother of a redundancy payout.

Of course there is one potential snag in this otherwise infallible device, and I feel like a ghastly pedant in even mentioning it, but if the story doesn't identify anyone and is therefore not traceable to any source couldn't it just be made up? Just a thought.