*John flicks through the papers downstairs while he tries to drink his coffee.*

*Damn the Telegraph all the way to Hades! he thinks. That is not and has never been my intention...*

*He rubs his eyes.*

*The story doesn't seem to be going to far at the moment - and no one bar a few unconnected users on Twitter are calling for his resignation, according to Sally - but... it's expenses. It's the whole reason he got the job in the first place! If there's one issue above all he has to seen to be perfectly clear on, it's this.*

*He takes another sip of his drink.*

*He was only doing what he thought was right - the original Ipsa report included information that could have resulted in the general public discovering the home addresses of Members of Parliament, something which is illegal. He sent a request to Ipsa to have that very specific information redacted, not to have the whole report pulled! And now he's the one being named with expenses fiddling and a cover up when he'd done nothing wrong.*

*John sighs. There's only one thing for it...*

*He refolds the papers, picks up a bunch of painkillers and leaves his coffee on the side to head down to Peter's cell. He places The Telegraph on Peter's bed, the page with his name, expenses and broken promises open on Peter's lap.*

I need your help, Peter.

*John drives the children to school and drops them off. The children can tell he isn't very happy and make sure to cuddle him extra hard when they get out of the card which only serves to make John feel even guiltier. He catches sight of a second-hand book shop across the road and has an idea.*

*John gets back in the car and drives to the part of London where the majority of the magical stores are located. He parks and rushes to an old bookshop he knows is full of very expensive, very old books. After a brief chat with the shop owner wherein John explains what he's trying to find, a very large, very old, very dusty potions book is brought out of an locked display case. John flicks through it - the illustrations are glorious and the book itself is in rather good condition for its ages, even if some of the leather hardback cover is broken and faded. John buys the book, inwardly wincing at the price but handing over the full amount as well as a tip for the shop owner for helping out to swiftly. John returns to the car, book in a large brown paper bag, and drives back to Westminster.*

*On the way back he stops at stationary shop nearby and picks up a card. When he arrives home, John writes what is for him a very succinct apology - making it clear that the apology comes from him in a personal capacity and not in his role as Speaker - and puts the card in the envelope. John then takes the book out of the bag and arranges the envelope on top of it.*

Hmmm... still not quite right... There's got to be something else I can...

*A thought strikes. John rushes downstairs to the parliamentary wine cellar. Having no idea which wine to pick, he scurries through the rows and rows of bottles to find the one that looks to be the most expensive. John picks one and returns to his living room. He rearranges his gift again until he is happy with the composition. Then John transports it to Peter's house, hoping he hasn't upped the wards to immediately incinerate anything with John's magical signature on it.*

The book has turned up. Time to go through the blasted thing and correct all that's wrong with it, I think.

Have finally tracked down and scrubbed the memory of the last journalist to get a glimpse of Farron's dairy.

Peter, try anything like that again and there won't be just a clean up operation in store. There is absolutely no excuse these days to try and cause a Lib Dem scandal when they're already doing so badly in the polls by giving out their personal information to media outlets. I thought you had retired from this sort of thing?