Walking towards my new office with a spring in my step, I come across Fallon, who is leaving it with a box

Monday

The PM calls a meeting via the Gavins WhatsApp group, but I wedge a chair in front of the other Gavin’s door, so it’s just me who turns up. She’s pacing around her office, looking concerned.

“This sexual harassment stuff I keep hearing about,” she says. “Is it going to cause particular problems with anybody in particular?”

“Prime minister,” I say, sternly. “I shall not gossip.”

“Yes,” says the PM. “No. Of course not.”

“Not even,” I add, “about Michael Fallon. Or Damian Green.”

“Oh God, really?” says the PM.

“I’ve said too much!” I say, contritely slapping myself on the wrist.

The PM says as it’s not anybody really vital, like Amber, she can probably cope.

“As if!” I say. “Why, that story