Why is Michael Fish lying about base-jumping, and why are people printing it?

The iconic weatherman, 68, famous for mis-calling the Great Storm, did not jump off a tower block.

You may have seen a "viral video" going around yesterday, showing veteran weatherman Michael Fish base-jumping to raise awareness of climate change. The Mirror reported it (Look, a flying Fish! Watch weatherman Michael Fish B.A.S.E jump for climate change awareness), as did the Express (WATCH: ICONIC WEATHERMAN MICHAEL FISH PARACHUTES OFF A BLOCK OF FLATS), while the Huffington Post even ran an op-ed from Michael (Why I Did a Base-Jump to Highlight Climate Change).

The only problem is he did no such thing. The video shows Michael Fish standing at the top of a tower; cuts to a distance-shot of a man jumping off the tower; and then cuts back to Michael Fish standing on the ground.

The stunt was arranged by "ethical clothing company" Rapanui, who confirmed that at no point did Fish actually jump from a tower; instead, it was a "qualified base-jumper" named Dan Witchalls.

The whole thing smells a bit funky. On the one hand, Rapanui were certainly off-base in sending out their press release, which states, in no uncertain terms:

Michael Fish MBE, the iconic British TV weatherman, has completed a B.A.S.E. jump from a London tower block to raise awareness of climate change.

Fish, who is 68 years old and, made the freefall jump from the rooftop, landing by parachute on the ground more than 200 feet below. Fish trained with experienced urban B.A.S.E jumpers prior to the jump.

On the other, while Rapanui have no technical obligation not to lie to the press to further their brand, the Mirror, Express and Huffington Post probably oughtn't to be uncritically reprinting false press releases. And Michael Fish certainly shouldn't be writing intense first-person accounts of an event which never actually happened:

We gained access in a way that might be, shall we say, frowned upon by the police. That, plus the fact that we had a little crosswind on our hands (I had forecast that earlier but nobody would listen, by the way) made for quite a tense atmosphere on the roof. I have to say, there was a part of me that wasn't quite so keen as I had been discussing the idea a month earlier when we last met. Nevertheless, when it came down to it, the training kicked in and it was all over very quickly.

Michael Fish, pretending to base-jump.

Alex Hern is a technology reporter for the Guardian. He was formerly staff writer at the New Statesman. You should follow Alex on Twitter.

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Why relations between Theresa May and Philip Hammond became tense so quickly

The political imperative of controlling immigration is clashing with the economic imperative of maintaining growth. 

There is no relationship in government more important than that between the prime minister and the chancellor. When Theresa May entered No.10, she chose Philip Hammond, a dependable technocrat and long-standing ally who she had known since Oxford University. 

But relations between the pair have proved far tenser than anticipated. On Wednesday, Hammond suggested that students could be excluded from the net migration target. "We are having conversations within government about the most appropriate way to record and address net migration," he told the Treasury select committee. The Chancellor, in common with many others, has long regarded the inclusion of students as an obstacle to growth. 

The following day Hammond was publicly rebuked by No.10. "Our position on who is included in the figures has not changed, and we are categorically not reviewing whether or not students are included," a spokesman said (as I reported in advance, May believes that the public would see this move as "a fix"). 

This is not the only clash in May's first 100 days. Hammond was aggrieved by the Prime Minister's criticisms of loose monetary policy (which forced No.10 to state that it "respects the independence of the Bank of England") and is resisting tougher controls on foreign takeovers. The Chancellor has also struck a more sceptical tone on the UK's economic prospects. "It is clear to me that the British people did not vote on June 23 to become poorer," he declared in his conference speech, a signal that national prosperity must come before control of immigration. 

May and Hammond's relationship was never going to match the remarkable bond between David Cameron and George Osborne. But should relations worsen it risks becoming closer to that beween Gordon Brown and Alistair Darling. Like Hammond, Darling entered the Treasury as a calm technocrat and an ally of the PM. But the extraordinary circumstances of the financial crisis transformed him into a far more assertive figure.

In times of turmoil, there is an inevitable clash between political and economic priorities. As prime minister, Brown resisted talk of cuts for fear of the electoral consequences. But as chancellor, Darling was more concerned with the bottom line (backing a rise in VAT). By analogy, May is focused on the political imperative of controlling immigration, while Hammond is focused on the economic imperative of maintaining growth. If their relationship is to endure far tougher times they will soon need to find a middle way. 

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.