Let's get one thing straight from the off. You can't be attacked with a custard pie. You can be splatted with a custard pie. You can be splurged with a custard pie. You can be spooged with a custard pie. You can be humiliated with a custard pie, but it's not an offensive weapon. It didn't even have any pastry.
Somewhere in a not so far off galaxy called Murdoch the final battle has commenced. The Death Star - emblazoned with the huge but now flickering News Corp insignia - is under sustained attack from the rebel alliance. Huge plumes of flames erupt (bonfires of the vanities, surely) from the crippled leviathan as missiles of truth pierce its thick hull built from a composite of money, power, corruption and arrogance, once thought indestructible.