TopPR agency boss, Dominic Hiatt, was today found pissed out of his mind, and staring into space, inThe Moon & Stars, Penge — with a niftystuck to his forehead.

The soullessWetherspoons boozer is well-known among London's communications professionals, who go there todrink themselves to death when it strikes them, generallyduring a team breakfast,that the life they lead is one biglie.

And if they don't die from catastrophic liver failure at the bar, the cream of the UK's PR professionals almost certainly get mugged by the locals, who easily pick them off as they stagger to the taxi rank, trousersround their ankles, singing Jolene.

Legend has it that journalists evenhang around outside The Moon at kicking-out time, just to watch their arch enemies gettheir heads caved in by the men of Penge — a twitchy horde, with short arms and hands like dustbin lids. Some even join in (once the softening-up has been done).




Exactly why was our PR hero, the man behind Just In Time PR — the only PR agency ever to speak the truth — playing roulette with his liver and sanity ina divelike Penge?

Because he had had an epiphany, that's why. It had struck him earlier that afternoon, during a conference call with the US, thathe is alone in the world of public relations — a shadowy loner in the mould of Michael Knight.

Hiatt now knewthat, like Michael, his was acrusade to champion the cause of the innocent, the helpless, the powerless, in a world of criminals who operate above the law.

But unlike Michael, who was funded by theKnight Foundation, a philanthropic organisation owned by billionaire Wilton Knight, Hiatt would haveno such luxury.

As a result, he will have tocharge£1,000+Vat a day excluding disbursements for services rendered in the name of truth.

His mission isto start tomorrow, almost certainly with a cataclysmichangover and,if he's lucky, some teeth.