It has been, even by his extraordinary standards, a strange couple of weeks for global media mogul Rupert Murdoch. The man who commands a vast swathe of the world's newspaper, books, television and film output is a canny fighter who usually wards off any bad publicity generated by his rivals. But now he is on the ropes, and even his nimble footwork is failing to stem the punches.

The first blow came with the news that Stuart Proffitt, senior non-fiction editor at his British publishers, HarperCollins, was "not at work" after the company had decided not to publish the memoirs of Hong Kong's last British governor, Chris Patten.

It was thought the book might upset the Chinese authorities and therefore ruin Murdoch's chances of making huge profits from satellite television in the world's most populous country.

It was embarrassing for Murdoch, conjuring up memories of 1994 when he dropped the BBC from his Star TV satellite in an attempt to curry favour with the Chinese.

But he is no stranger to controversy and employs a normally reliable method for ducking out of trouble. He insulates himself from the outside world in his corporate fastness and lets his minions do the talking.

The script never varies. It's all rumour and speculation, they say. Rupert is amazed at the inaccuracies. He is even more astonished that anyone could think this minor matter should have come to his attention.

The act fools no one but, in a way, it tends to work. Rows do blow over because there is never any real evidence against him. It proves impossible to get at the facts, and the gnarled old boxer ambles from the ring, smiling shyly, claiming another points victory while his fuming opponents are left arguing with the referee.

Not this time. The routine spindoctoring by Murdoch's aides suggested that the decision to drop Patten's book had nothing whatsoever to do with China. You know, old boy, it wasn't really up to scratch for us, a bit boring, not worth the £125,000 we paid for it. Then the Daily Telegraph landed a haymaker, producing documentary proof that Mr Proffitt had been telling the truth all along.

It published copies of two incriminating memos. In one, from Mr Proffitt to HarperCollins's chairman, Eddie Bell, the first chapter of the Patten book is described as "the most lucid, best-written and compelling book I have read by any politician of any persuasion". That nailed the lies from Rupert's whisperers.

The second memo, dated the next day, from Bell to his boss, Anthea Disney, chief executive of Murdoch's American publishing company, revealed the truth. They had already decided to drop the book before seeing the manuscript, and Bell's major concern was to deal with "potential ramifications", such as "negative impact on acquisitions".

The Telegraph, which called Murdoch "a gangster", also published the full transcript of Mr Proffitt's legal statement of claim against HarperCollins for constructive dismissal after 15 successful years with them in which he has overseen many best-sellers.

Before Murdoch could raise his fists came another blow. While the rest of the press followed up the Telegraph's revelations with tales of authors deserting HarperCollins and vowing never to write for a Murdoch company again, it became clear that one newspaper, the Times (proprietor: R. Murdoch), had failed to carry a word of the story.

The spotlight immediately turned on its editor, Peter Stothard, and its respected media editor, Raymond Snoddy, to explain their reticence. Had the socalled paper of record been guilty of censorship?

Times readers may have been baffled by Snoddy's first piece, "News Corp puts its side in row over Patten book", since they would have few clues about any other side. It was a mealy-mouthed piece in which Murdoch said he had been upset by the book being commissioned in the first place. He just didn't want to publish it and that was that.

Three days later Murdoch took the unprecedented step of granting Snoddy an "exclusive interview" at Luton Airport, during a brief stopover in Britain, and revealed what he had told his HarperCollins executives. "I said, `Why don't you go and say we would rather have someone else publish this, and if there is any chance of losing money we will make it good?' "

Murdoch said those executives "screwed it up" by failing to carry out his instructions, allowing Mr Proffitt to become "a martyr". But he also stressed that he had "never been under any pressure from the Chinese". He just didn't like the book, and didn't care for Mr Patten's views on China and Hong Hong.

On the same day came another punch, delivered from the blind side by the Times's former East Asia editor, Dr Jonathan Mirsky, who claimed his coverage of China and Hong Kong had been curtailed to suit Murdoch's interests. This, at least, proved to be a low blow.

In a forthright defence on Thursday, Stothard rebutted Mirsky's version of events. But the Times was on the defensive. Next day Snoddy also wrote a column defending his failure to write about his own company's affairs by pointing out that other papers don't have good records in similar circumstances either.

Meanwhile, a trickle of authors have daily announced that they will not be published by HarperCollins. It isn't clear just yet how much lasting damage Murdoch has sustained.

Last night, he threw in the towel in the latest twist of his damage limitations exercise with the announcement that HarperCollins had "unreservedly apologised" to Patten. The former governor's reputation is restored.

It remains to be seen whether the same can be said for Murdoch, The Times and HarperCollins.