I remain riveted by the Leveson Enquiry, and wish I could just watch it all day, instead of just the snippets that I catch on the news.
What are those Tories taking? They are super-animated, eyes a-pop, hands flailing around, drama catching in their throats (was multi-millionaire Hunt close to tears in the House of Commons the other day?).
Below, I have printed the secret Tory instructions that are slipped to them with their arabica coffee and almond croissant half an hour before they swear the oath. You could ask me on oath if I intercepted an email to get hold of these. I would reply: 'To my knowledge, I am not aware of any sort of skulduggery at this precise moment in time: this is a ridiculous allegation.', and you could make of that what you will.
1. Drink 2 cans Red Bull
2. Imagine Peter Jay is the fag you used to bully at Eton: sneaky little worm! Has he got five million in the bank? Of course not! Arriviste!
3. Pretend you're on the winning side at The Debating Society. Raise your eyes to the heavens, frown in distaste; look at the screen beside you with an air of puzzlement. Talk with intense animation, without stopping for breath. The Upstart Jay will not be able to interrupt you and will eventually forget the question he asked you in the first place.
4. Remember, you're all in the same Lodge anyway, so it'll all square up in the end; just bide your time and everything will be OK. If it goes on long enough, the public will lose interest anyway.
5. They can't get rid of you for three years; there's time to set up a few contracts in the U.S. before then, especially after hosting the Jubilee and the Olympics. That's the perfect USP for any ex-politician wanting to turn their millions into billions!