There is nothing worse than being accused of something you didn't do. Well, there is. Being convicted of something you didn't do. But if members of the police force, left-leaning commentators and senior lawyers are to be believed, the worst thing right now is to be identified as a potential wrong-doer.
What business is it of ours if Mr David Sherborne, barrister to the victims of phone hacking and other alleged press abuses at the Leveson Inquiry, stamps his feet, warbles his throat and unfurls his tail feathers to attract a mate? If a relationship is explored during a public inquiry between two counsel on different sides of such a high profile event then there is a genuine public interest in the timing and extent of those rituals.
The Royal Charter on the press that was approved by all parties in Parliament on 18 March will benefit the public in many ways. The Charter, which is based on the recommendations of the year-long Leveson Inquiry and has the support of many victims of press abuses, creates a framework for press self-regulation that meets basic regulatory standards.
The politicians' draft Royal Charter is supposed to be a wizard wheeze to entrench "voluntary independent self-regulation", Judge Leveson's Orwellian oxymoron, without crossing David Cameron's Rubicon into statutory regulation. Of course, it does nothing of the kind. It is state regulation by any other name.
When you've been untouchable and all powerful and have successfully fought off seven previous government attempts to put an end to press abuse, you don't give your power up lightly. So the announcement that three newspaper groups have "rejected" the Royal Charter, recently agreed by a united House of Commons, is not surprising.
This is not a story that can be understood from headlines alone, partly because in Britain the headlines have so often wildly distorted the truth. Despite what you may have read, there is no threat by British politicians to interfere with press freedom. There is, however, a powerful consensus for change.
As a practicing lawyer frequently representing a cross-section of victims ranging from A-listers to politicians, while at the same time also having a significant number of journalists and publishers on my client list, I often have to change hats when arguing for press freedom on the one hand, and striving to protect the basic reputational and other rights of the ordinary man on the street on the other.
There is no doubt that Michael Philpott is a uniquely revolting piece of work, of the type that shames our species, but the Mail's disgustingly manipulative attempt to use the horrendous deaths of six children as a vindication of the Coalition's ruthless victimisation of the unemployed, is no less repellent.
What do you reckon George Osborne is regretting most about the past week? The loopholes in the latest Budget, or his decision to join Twitter a few hours before he presented it? Twitter isn't exactly the most welcoming of destinations for public figures - it's not exactly the friendliest of places for anyone with more than about 43 followers - but jump on in and you never know, the water might be warm... or shark infested if you're the Chancellor of the Exchequer. If you were feeling in the tiniest bit victimized this week, take just six seconds to browse the memes devoted to Georgie's first Twitter pic and I guarantee you'll feel a whole lot better about yourself.
The problem now for Rupert Murdoch, Paul Dacre and the Barclay brothers, who between them control most of the British press, is that the British public have got their number. Most people now know what's been going on and they don't like it. Until recently, Murdoch controlled the government and, disgracefully, sections of the police. At the same time, he and his UK employees repeatedly told us that phone hacking had involved only one rogue reporter. Newscorp, he said, had "zero tolerance" of wrongdoing. We now know that was untrue.