Sally is my wife not my chattel, appendage, or add-on!

If she does not wish to attend the funeral, she is at perfect liberty to decline the invitation. She is her own woman, makes her own decisions and they are not related to me in any way, shape or form.

The mere fact that I have to point this out yet again is proof that the media and politics as a whole still has a great deal to improve on when it comes to the way it portrays women.
02 December 2012 @ 11:22 am
*With Sally back on twitter John thinks it can only be a matter of time before they have to downsize again to pay for legal fees. He hopes her return with distract from the blasted Private Eye parody account but doesn't hold out much hope. Instead, he focuses on flicking through the property pages of the newspapers in an attempt to find a new, cheaper home, should they need it.*

*A large box of Roses chocolates is empty on the table next to him, the colourful wrappers strewn all over the floor. John reaches for the new box of Celebrations as he turns the page.*
16 November 2012 @ 11:38 am
Text from 078## ######


I am unsure where your sudden fascination with the state of my oral health has come from, but I assure you there is no need to keep telling me to floss!

04 November 2012 @ 05:54 pm
The trick with the placing of numberplates in the Palace of Westminster car park was not in the least bit humourous.

Refraining from such attempts again would more than likely be in your best interest.
05 October 2012 @ 10:23 am
*John grumbles in his sleep; there's something tickling his nose. He twitches. Still there.*

*John tries to roll over but one of his arms is trapped under the thing that's making his nose itch. The sunlight is streaming through a crack in the curtains and makes sure he can't get back to sleep. Sighing, John opens his eyes and tries to work out what was tickling his nose.*

*He turns.*

...Oh for Merlin's sake, not again...
31 August 2012 @ 02:43 pm

Text from 078## ######

I am not sure if my last message failed to get through, or if, perhaps, I did not make myself clear enough. As such, I will restate the message in language that is easier to understand...

Witches and Wizards of Westminster:

There is a werewolf in London. I repeat, there is a werewolf in London.

Meeting in Speaker's House as soon as possible. Get here now.

Is that clear enough, for you?


31 August 2012 @ 10:34 am
*John is woken by his phone buzzing next to his ear. Having had it switched off for most of the holiday, he is unused to the alarm and nearly falls out of bed. He checks the message. Peter's fine, it would seem, if a little grumpy, but interior decoration does that on occasion.*

*John stretches and tries not to wake Sally up as he gets out of bed. A cup of tea later and John is sitting, typing away at the laptop Sally left open and on - even in her sleep she can't stand her infernal gadgets being switched off - to get the day's news. He looks up what happened regarding the situation in Regent's Park the previous night.*

*The details are few and far between but John gets the gist of the story - a wolf (a giant one in some interpretations) attacked two people in the Park. Both are hospitalized and the outlook is bleak. John reads the details of the injuries. An expert on wild animal attacks he is not, but even to him the list of broken bones and bashed-in skulls seem too much for a lone wolf. A bear, perhaps, but not a wolf. Unless it was a very large wolf.*

A large wolf... a large wolf...

*Suddenly, a thought strikes him.*

No. No, it couldn't possibly... that's ridiculous, John. There haven't been wild werewolves in London for decades.

*John tries to put the thought to the back of his mind. He opens up the BBCNews website and a particular story grabs his interest.*

A fire? Most odd... I shall have to speak to Black Rod when I get back...

*Despite trying his best to ignore the growing feeling of unease by distracting himself with the news items of less immediate importance, John cannot resist testing his theory. A quick Google search shows him the phases of the moon. Tonight is the full moon. All of a sudden, things seem a lot more serious.*

Oh dear...

*He quickly grabs his phone and sends a text to every witch and wizard he has in his contact book.*

Text from 078## ######

Arriving back from holiday later today and request an urgent meeting with all magical folk in or able to get back to London this morning. Preliminary research has indicated the possibility of a lycanthropic outbreak in the city.


*The message sent, John hurriedly sets about packing his things away and getting ready to head back to London by himself. If there really is a werewolf running around London he doesn't want his family anywhere near the city.*
23 June 2012 @ 08:41 pm
*John is seated in his usual chair in the living room reading the newspaper. His foot is tapping restlessly. His phone lies silent on the coffee table. After restlessly flicking through a dozen or so pages, John sighs. He closes the paper and picks up his phone. No new texts. John puts the phone down and picks up the paper to read. He goes through this routine for a good half an hour before he gives up. With one final glance at his inbox, John steps into the fireplace and emerges in Peter's house.*

Peter? Peter are you in?

*John wanders around the ground floor of the flat, calling up the stairs and looking in every possible hiding place for the missing wizard. In his search, John finds the door to Peter's cellar/underground lab open. Cautiously, John makes his way down the stairs, wand at the ready.*

Peter, are you down here?

*He gets to the bottom of the stairs and he only just manages to stop himself swearing at the sight that greets him. Peter is slumped scribbling over a desk, books and papers piled high around him, coffee mugs strewn across the floor. Ahead of him The Machine towers, twice as high and three times as wide as the last time John saw it. The Machine whirs and buzzes loudly, emitting steam at seemingly random moments. The screen closest to John shows cascading digits while others show countless diagrams and maps.*

...Peter, what on earth have you done,?
28 March 2012 @ 08:03 pm
A few Tweets taken out of all possible context and proportion does not constitute a story, or at the very least it shouldn't; my wife and I are in total agreement on this point, I think you will find.
21 February 2012 @ 08:07 am

*Somewhere in the distance, John can hear his wife laughing. Slowly the laughing gets louder and he can see flashes of light on the otherside of his eyelids.*
*Annoyed, buries his face closer into warmth next to him. The arm around his tightens and John smiles.*
*But the laughter and flashes do not stop. Groggily, John turns his head towards to the irritation and opens one eye*

Oh do kindly stop it, Sally.

*John returns to the warm body next to him. It is a full 30 seconds before he realises the person he's curdled up to isn't his wife.*
*Very carefully, to avoid startling the person next to him, John leans back until he can look at the face of the person he's spent the night with. By the time he has done so, the other person is staring back at him.*

...Good morning, Peter.

25 October 2011 @ 07:49 pm
You bastard!

Fix this at once!
02 October 2011 @ 07:56 am
I cannot believe I have to actually utter these words...

Will you kindly stop stealing civil servants?
12 August 2011 @ 07:36 pm
I will be going into hiding back on holiday for a while.

Why, Sally? Why?
02 June 2011 @ 07:26 pm
I spend a few days out of the country on business and we need to have the 'no more Twitter' discussion again...
23 May 2011 @ 05:31 pm
Would someone, ideally from the government benches, be so kind as to remind the Secretary of State for Education that he is in fact a Secretary of State meaning he is no longer a member of Her Majesty's Loyal Opposition and thus has to answer questions about the policy of the government and not make accusations and speculations about the conduct of the opposite benches while at the despatch box? A reminder to face the chamber during debates and to be succinct in his retorts would also not go amiss and more than likely save a great deal of time in the House if successful.

And if anyone would be willing to teach my wife to drive I'd be forever grateful.
18 May 2011 @ 10:29 pm
For once an instance where my ignorance plays in my favour, although I still don't understand why there have to be so many systems and how things can possibly "come up smaller" in different establishments when they're using an identical arrangement...

Added to that, Jemima appears to have forgotten about Peppa Pig World at last, although for how long remains to be seen. The biographer and his book were replaced on The Daily Politics rather swiftly this afternoon and there have been so many charity and constituency matters to attend to recently that I've been kept far too busy to be bored.

Things could certainly be a lot worse.
11 April 2011 @ 07:00 am
From today's Independent:

"[The book] is, reportedly, "a Jilly Cooper-style romp", with characters including unscrupulous MPs, grasping political wives, bothersome hacks and an "all-powerful" Downing Street spin chief."

Good Lord, could it be any more obvious? I just hope the characters aren't called something as equally transparent, such as "Alistair Campble" or "Quenton Lotts"...
08 April 2011 @ 05:48 pm
I was perfectly aware that Sally was in the process of writing a book, but... but... that's what it's about?! It's little wonder she wouldn't let me read it. Westminster Spouses, well I mean really Sally. I know the phrase is "write about what you know" but honestly, couldn't you use just a small amount of creativity and write about anything other than Westminster?

Please, please let the fact that Crick got the identity of the cloth covering her modesty wrong be a sign that the rest of the article is just as false.
06 April 2011 @ 09:03 pm
This is exactly why information should not be released into the public domain until the figures have been finalised - it's a whole lot of bother about nothing which Quentin Letts will endeavour to use to make it appear as though his intense, irrational hatred of me is somehow based on fact. Ridiculous. Farcical. Preposterous.

And no, just to make this absolutely abundantly crystal clear, I most certainly will not be getting Twitter any time in the immediate future.