It was even more of a family affair than anyone anticipated. Rupert and James Murdoch were on the schedule for yesterday’s House of Commons Culture, Media and Sport Committee – not so, Wendi Murdoch’s right fist. After sitting demurely behind her husband for two hours, Rupert’s Chinese-born wife gave new meaning to the phrase Tiger mother, by pummelling the intruder who had burst into the room to lather her husband with a foam pie.

For connoisseurs of management, and great moguls in particular, though, yesterday’s proceedings offered the chance to witness a master class in crisis management. James Murdoch was good, if a little reedy, wordy and over-drilled by his lawyers. He did all the necessary blocking and tackling to get through a tricky afternoon. His father, though, was magnificent, initially as terse as an outback farmer, but slowly unveiling the lethal charm even his rivals describe as mesmeric. As the proceedings began, he interrupted his son to say this was “the most humble day of my life”, but then showed all the interest of Caesar being grilled about some long-forgotten incident in the Londinium aqueduct authority. He responded to the MP’s rambling questions with a theatrical pause, followed by a simple “yes” or “no”. When he did speak, he banged the table as if berating an insubordinate shareholder.

His business achievements loomed over the proceedings. Here was a man who has built his company over 57 years, who employs 52,000 people around the world, who broke the British print unions, barged into US network television, and gave us Titanic and Avatar. Pressed on whether or not he should have known the details of the News of the World’s investigation into phone-hacking, he made it clear that the News of the World represented a minuscule fraction of News Corp, less than 1 per cent of its $33bn in revenues last year.