I’ve been thinking about journalistic ethics lately.

The other week I had a very enjoyable lunch with Kara Swisher from All Things D. Unlike me, Kara is a proper journalist – so much so that she feels the need to publish a very detailed statement of ethics on her site. And Kara is not alone. Walt Mossberg has one too, as do the whole of the Wall Street Journal and the New York Times.

As a Brit, this concept is obviously very new to me – like sprayable cheese and light beer. And, like sprayable cheese and light beer, there’s something about the phrase ‘journalistic ethics’ that sounds hideously oxymoronic to my ear.

But when in Rome, right? And so to assist my transition from cheap Brit hack to proper American journalist I’ve decided it’s about time I published my own Ethics Statement. I hope it clears up any misconceptions you might have.

Principle One: I am a whore.

Look at the cover of my book. See the word Whore? It’s in red. That’s because I am a whore; a hussy; a slut-for-hire; a man of scarlet letters. I write newspaper columns because people pay me to do so. I write books for the same reason. The more I get paid, the better I write – which is just one of the reasons this blog is so shit. I’ll let others kill themselves in search of the truth – they can tell me all about it over dinner and Champagne later; my treat.

Principle Two: Having said that, I can’t pretend give a shit about your crappy company, no matter what you pay me.

I don’t write ad copy or press releases and I don’t ghost-write bullshit ebooks – but, again, I beg you not to mistake this for an ethical position. I’m just not very good at it, because it involves writing about something other than myself. Also, as anyone who has worked with me will testify, having me write a press release is a kiss of death for any company. No one wants that. (Exception to rule: I have written jokes for Alex Tew’s Popjam. This is because I owed him some new trainers after throwing his old ones from a roof-tub hot tub, down into to the streets of Soho)

Principle Three: If it moves…

There seems to be a trend in these things of disclosing personal ‘relationships’ that might impact on one’s writing. I find the idea that who you’re fucking might affect your day job (except perhaps making you late for breakfast meetings) very peculiar indeed but, for the avoidance of doubt, please assume that I’ve slept with everyone I write about. That includes women, men, members of my own family and the monkey on my 404 page. Those I haven’t slept with probably owe me money, or I owe them hard drugs. Either way, we’re all tainted.

Principle Four: What are friends for?

If you’re my friend I will write nice things about you; if you’re not I probably won’t. There are cases, though, where I’ll say nasty things about my friends. This, again, has nothing to do with ethics and everything to do with the fact that I’m a total cunt.

Principle Five: Never look a gift whore in the mouth.

I have absolutely no qualms about taking freebies from companies I write about. In increasing order of preference, I enjoy: lunches, dinners, parties, after-parties, alcohol and handjobs. If you can find a way to combine all of these, I’ll be putty in your hands. So to speak.

HOWEVER – in order to create the illusion of ethics, there are three totally arbitrary sub-principles I always live by…

Impartiality: When trying to hook up with your PR girl at your party, how attractive she is will play almost no part in my decision making. That would smack of discrimination.

Bribery: If you buy me a Happy Meal as a bribe, I will refuse to accept the free toy. See also, Kinder Surprise eggs.

Payola: I find the idea of pay-for-play hideous. Instead I will accept cash bribes not to write about your appallingly ill-conceived products. And then I’ll write about them anyway. You should take this as a life lesson rather than bandying around the word “fraud”.

Principle Six: Stock and awe.

Finally, the all-important note on stocks. I have stocks in no companies whatsoever. This is because every investment I touch turns to shit. In the interests of full disclosure, though, I have premium memberships to Adult Friend Finder and Bill O’Reilly.com, both of which bring me enormous pleasure. Although I only bought the latter for the free falafel.

In addition to the above, I also abide by the Boy Scout Motto (be prepared), the Four Hour Work-week (be lazy, sell drugs), the Guardian style guide (try to use the word “cunt” only in direct quotes) and the rules of Dogme (the mentally ill are fucking hilarious).

For clarification of any of the above, please Paypal me $100 and I’ll be delighted to ignore you.