In 2009 I attended the wedding of News International chief executive Rebekah Brooks. The ceremony took place by a lake, at a country estate. I stood next to TV presenter Piers Morgan, while Paul Dacre, Daily Mail editor, was a few yards away. Rupert Murdoch was closer to the action. David Cameron hung back up the slope. Gordon Brown, then prime minister, arrived late, with all eyes turning to him as he walked down to the lake.

At the reception I had a brief conversation with Mr Cameron. I said I hoped he would not win the upcoming election, but that if he did, and if he wanted to act to improve political debate and standards in the press, I would support him. For some time the journalist in me had known that the relationship between politics and the media was not serving the public. But it was my first-hand experience of this developing culture of abuse and negativity that convinced me Britain’s press and 24-hour news were making it more difficult for elected leaders to govern.

“It’s got worse, hasn’t it?” he said. I replied that he would be a much stronger prime minister were he to take office not feeling he owed anything to the big media groups. At that point Mr Murdoch joined us, and we changed the subject. Perhaps we should not have done so. That we did, however, illustrated something of the dishonesty at the heart of what are essentially political and commercial relationships.