Fraught morning. Drew the short straw and had to take Mrs Spelperson her camomile tea but couldn’t find her. Looked everywhere. Under the desk, in the filing cabinet. Nowhere. So I couldn’t tick the chart confirming that she had been checked on and given light refreshments. I expect she’s climbed out of the window to go to choir practice again. Dave still furious and says God may forgive her but he certainly won’t. If it was up to him, he would invent a new commandment, Thou Shalt Not Fiddle Thy Commons Expenses, the breaking of which would be eternal damnation and losing the whip. He was raging: ‘What’s the point of Conservative Christian Fellowship do-gooders if they can’t even stay the right side of the fees office?’ Gary said he was sure he didn’t know.
Am keeping my head down. Lot of press briefing to do on Dave’s big push on the family. The line is he would never put politics before his children. We’ve got exclusive new piccies of him with little Arthur looking cute in a blue sun hat to give the story added authenticity.
V exciting! Gary has launched a top level internal inquiry into who framed Mrs Spelperson!! He’s sure it’s an ‘inside job’ and is drawing up a list of chief suspects for surveillance purposes. It’ll be nice for him to dust off his tabloid phone-tapping equipment. Plus, he has asked me to help draw up the list of those who might have a grudge against her. So far, have got ‘all male party members with MEP ambitions, all anti-Europeans and right-wingers, all prospective parliamentary candidates and all those who oppose the Equality Agenda’. That should narrow it down a bit.
Meanwhile DD dangerously overexcited ahead of the terror vote, threatening anyone who dares to question his strategy of ‘not negotiating with socialists’ with his mountaineering axe. Nigel not convinced it’s a good idea to condemn police who support the legislation as stupid and corrupt, but DD insists ‘they love it — it’s big boy’s stuff Nige, you wouldn’t understand.’
Bev from Labour phones with incredible news. She has managed to get herself involved in the Miliband leadership campaign, the one that’s not happening, and says if we promise her a seat — ‘any seat, they’re all safe Tory seats now’ — she will feed us information! She has given me a taster in order to whet our appetite. Apparently they call Gordon the most unbelievably offensive names — details to follow if safe seat forthcoming. But that’s not the best of it. Get this — they hold secret leadership planning meetings at which they eat skinny muffins and drink smoothies! This is terrifying news. I simply hadn’t realised how serious the threat was. Am going to write an official memo to Gary, recommending that we sign up Bev immediately.
Gah! Sat up all night going through photocopies of old expense claims and found one I put in for a packet of Polos that’s now looking a bit dodgy. I definitely bought them on Jed’s orders for a brainstorming session but I seem to remember forgetting to give them to him, and on returning home that evening possibly feeding one or two of them to Sesame. I think I’d better tell Nigel. Or should I keep quiet? What if Jed doesn’t remember that he ordered me to buy them? He’s quite busy packing his house up for the big ‘trip’ to America. Oh dear. Think I better just give the Standards Commissioner a quick ring to get some guidance.