...to ring in the summer recess.

*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.*

For those of you that were unforunate enough to miss the full extent of Peter's recent journal update, I have a screenshot here for you all to enjoy.

Chris,

I am sure you noted my well wishes in the chamber but I still felt it pertinent to wish you a happy birthday in a more personal manner.

John

You bastard!

Fix this at once!

Peter,

Quick question; what's your favourite colour?

John.

As those of you that follow my wife on the Twitter-sphere-thing will no doubt be aware by now, the family and I are taking a short break in Devon this year. As such, I will be unable to be contacted until further notice. If anything of importance arises in my absence, feel free to leave a message and I will be sure to get back to you in as short a time as possible.

I would just like it noted that certain rumours about my wife and a particular television show or comments that she is giving 'serious' thought to such suggestions will not be classed as important and as such will not receive a timely reply.

Peter, is this really your best attempt at an April Fool's joke, or did you just get drunk and try to prank call the office again, hmm?

Very poor show indeed.

Oh, and according to Quentin Letts in The Mail, I'm the third most annoying MP, thank you, with Mr Balls and Ms Cooper occupying the top two places.

I have been a bit odd lately - being happy and acting in a competant manner and so on - and Sally has managed to stay out of the spotlight recently - that successfully small interview, refusing to publicly comment on the book - maybe I should get her a gift...

Oh, maybe I could get an Eddy Stobart lorry named after her, I know she'd like that...

5 year waiting list, hmm?

Well, I suppose I could put her name down on the li-

...She wants one as a memorial?

A little unconventional, but I suppose we could always put it in the wi-

...And the suggestion results in crude innuendo. Marvellous.

The Mail is back to hating me, the boys are causing senseless destruction... it seems like everything is back to normal at last.

Who talked?

 P,

On the way back from buying Freddie his first broom (no matter how hard I tried, he still chose the 'Falcon over the 'Storm - children these days!) I saw this and, for some reason, thought of you.

Talk to you when you get back from wherever it is you've run off too.

J.

P.S. While I couldn't possibly condone accidentally or 'accidentally' granting sentience to your creations, I have to say The Machine is far more polite than I dared hope it would be, given that it was made by you. J.

If I catch anyone humming a certain song, I can assure you I will be most displeased. Peter, I'm looking at you in particular, since I know you're so fond of said song and even occasionally sing your own version of it.

Not. A. Peep. Got it?

Stop email, posting, leaving copies in my office of this:

I've got the message loud and clear, thank you.

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?

Good Lord, did everyone decide to take their children to the Natural History Museum on the first day of half term? At least Oliver enjoyed himself, even if I didn't.

Fantastic start to the day. Sofa bed ordered, caught up with Sally's appearance on 10 O'Clock Live and it was far, far, far better than I dared to think, the coffee machine decided to work first time for once...

It's good to be me.