*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.
*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.