MONDAY Am engaged on top secret mission — the accidental
snapping by a tabloid photographer of Sam nipping out for late-night essentials on the mean streets of west London! We first planned for her to be caught buying fairtrade mozzarella in Partridges on Gloucester Road but Jed said this wasn’t gritty enough. So she’s going to go somewhere really downbeat in North Kensington — with security to make sure she doesn’t get mugged, of course. We can’t leave safety to chance. Not with London in the grip of a crime wave, and all of Britain beaten down and driven to acts of desperation by the lash of recession.
Must say, this Northern Rock business is causing considerable problems. Spent hours trying to get Wonky Tom on his own so he could explain bonds to me, and may have left him with the impression that I fancy him. Think it was the email headed ‘Urgent, I need you’. Now he’s avoiding me because he’s shy and cannot quite believe that a, if not the, Top Tory It-Girl fancies him. It’s probably hard for someone like him to believe but I actually don’t get a lot of offers on account of my being an Alpha Woman and quite intimidating, etc.
TUESDAY What a day! Was collating lost laptop statistics — according to my shock calculations, a government computer goes missing every four seconds — when Nigel dispatched me to DD’s office. Someone’s ‘gone sick’ again and they’re short on staff. Begged him to check the rota but he was adamant. It clearly shows that it’s My Turn. Some of the girls took me for a quick snifter in the Morpeth Arms and gave me survival tips and a copy of the official guide which has a lot of useful stuff in it about tanks.
Do you know what? It wasn’t that awful at all. I think Poppy’s exaggerating. Mostly it’s just fielding calls from someone called Jacqui. She rings every ten minutes and leaves a ton of messages. ‘Ask David this, ask David that, tell him it’s kebab-related’ . . . She sounds pretty desperate. There’s a story behind this one, mark my words.
WEDNESDAY Tried to get Daddy to explain bonds this morning but he was too busy raging about share prices and how Blasted Robert, his brother, is going to make a killing. He’s in hedge funds. Still don’t understand what those are either. Never thought I’d say it, but am actually enjoying the EU Treaty debate. Bit of light relief. (Shame Miliband isn’t fanciable any more. What happened there?) Remarkably, had another OK day in DD land. In fact it was quite relaxing. The boys are really gallant and do all the work. I just answer the phone and make tea. Easy. Jacqui called a few times. ‘Did he say when he was going to call me back?’ I told her he was ever so busy, what with being shadow home secretary and all that. She left a v odd message. I’m to ask whether she should have made clear there was chilli sauce on the kebab — and would 36 days be all right? Don’t think I’ll bother passing any of that on. Complete gibberish.
THURSDAY Oh dear. DD suddenly ran out of office and barked, ‘Get Jacqui on the line!’ Apparently the 36-day thingy part of the message was quite important. Now he’s in dreadful cross-patchy mood. Heard him on phone to Nigel demanding they send him ‘another one’. Fingers crossed, I’ll be out of here by tomorrow . . .
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