Having smashed through the moral boundary that says you do not mock a dead serviceman's gravestone, the Daily Mail's week only got worse when their ivory tower in wealthy West London burnt down yesterday.
The fire broke out after the paper's editor Paul Dacre made a speech to his office to help morale. Within moments of claiming that the Daily Mail was not a vindictive, bigoted, shit rag that had barely moved on since its support of the Nazis his pants caught fire.
Speculation is rife that Dacre was only able to continue his speech because he has long spiritually resided in a lake of fire in the bottomless pit of his blackened soul.
As the flames flickered around his waist deputy editor Jon Stefeal sat leashed to his master's side howling in fear and pain, as his overburdened frame became a human candle.
The 64-year-old editor was keen to criticise the lack of patriotism shown by the former Navel Officer Ralph Miliband drawing comparisons with his own father who bravely spent the war fighting fascism as a showbiz reporter.
Geoffrey Levy, the journalist behind the original article sat quietly staring into a broken mirror considering the moral consequences of his hatchet job.
He wondered that if using quotes from the teenage diary of a dead man to smear a political opponent was wrong then he had betrayed the very British values that he had sought to uphold.
If he was right and you could judge a man by the generation before them that would surely mean writing for the Daily Mail made him a Hitler loving anti-Semite. At this point he defecated in his own pants and started flinging his faeces around the newsroom.
The Picture Desk editor was seen gently weeping whilst trying to make up his mind on which photos to print. Would it be the sinister paparazzi shot of 7-year-old Suri Crusie, a creepy photo of underage girl in a bikini or a cruel picture of a celebrity who they had judged to be either too fat or too skinny?
He promptly stuck his fingers into his own eye sockets and tried to gouge his eyes out in shame at what his life had become.
Chaos quickly spread as Paul Dacre's flammable underwear engulfed the office. Interns and poorly paid staff put down the blunt safety scissors they had been slashing at their wrists with and fled the building chanting 'FREEDOM', but not before smearing Geoffrey Levy's still warm excrement on the walls.
Outside, members of the public strolled by ignoring the pleas of those remaining inside to piss on them in hope of putting out the fire. Paul Dacre was last seen as a flaming ball of hatred stamping on kittens and kicking the homeless. His legacy has been described as evil.