On Monday, New York mag will publish a long feature by Alexandra Polier. (Earlier this year, various media outlets claimed that Polier had had an affair with Presidential candidate John Kerry.)
After the jump: an excerpt from the story in which Polier interviews — or, tries to interview — Brian Flynn of the Brit tabloid The Sun, who was the first to name her. Hot: the stalkee becomes the stalker.
Though my name wasn't mentioned in the initial Drudge "exclusive," it made its first appearance in the British tabloid The Sun on Friday, February 13. The article, by one Brian Flynn, referred to Kerry as a sleazeball in the headline and said I was 24 (didn't I wish). It purported to quote my father at home in Pennsylvania discussing the senator, saying, "I think he's a sleazeball." The article also claimed to quote my mother as saying Kerry had once chased after me to be on his campaign. My mother was not even home when Flynn called, and Flynn didn't tell my father — who at this stage was unaware of the Drudge allegations — that he was interviewing him. Instead, he presented himself as a friend trying to get hold of me to talk about John Kerry. My father, a Republican, who believed Kerry had flip-flopped on various issues, said, "Oh, that sleazeball." Here's how it reappeared in Flynn's piece: "There is no evidence the pair had an affair, but her father, Terry, 56, said: 'I think he's a sleazeball.'"
...Afraid I would lose my temper, I asked my editor to call [Flynn] first.
"I was calling to ask you who your source was for your story which named Alex Polier as the intern in the Kerry story," she said.
"Ah, many people have asked me; it was a fantastic source," he said. "I broke that story to the world, you know!" he added proudly. "But your source was wrong," she pointed out. He paused, startled. "You've just ambushed me," he cried. "You've ambushed me!"
"I think you should speak to Alex," she said and passed me the phone.
"Hello," he said, sounding nervous.
"I'd like to talk to you. I'm writing a piece and have some questions."
"It's not a good time right now," he said. "Let's meet up next week."
"Why did you quote my mother when she wasn't even home?" I persisted.
"I really can't talk about this right now, Alex," he said.
When I finally tracked him down the following week, he was brusque and told me to go through The Sun's PR office. I asked him about my mother again, but he kept saying, "Sorry, Alex, proper channels." Reached in London, Lorna Carmichael, The Sun's PR manager, refused to comment. I went to Flynn's apartment, and spoke to his wife through the intercom. "Go away and leave us alone!" she cried. "He's not going to come down or speak to you."