THERE is a story, perhaps apocryphal, that sums up both the style and the substance of Murdoch, the on a vacation from Oxford, he, with a friend, went on a motoring holiday in France in a car his parents had given him. All through the trip, Rupert chose the hotels to stay in and the restaurants to eat at. When his friend complained, his answer was: "The car is mine. So I'll take the decisions."