"Look Marie; I'm sorry. We got into it a bit and..." David began butMarie held out her hand to stop him."I don't want to hear anymore; I can guess it...involves a succession ofpints of beer accompanied by old rugby stories and probably storiesabout old university girlfriends. Then you were too pissed to come homeso you stayed with your friend; who was it again?" Marie eyed him overthe rim of her wineglass."Tim err Timothy; he hates being called Tim, and he wasn't much of arugby man," David. "She hung up and looked up at me. "She'll pass on your name," she told me. "If you'll just take a seat..." She gestured vaguely at the chairs, in which three other people were already waiting for somebody.I sat, feeling a little uneasy. I hadn't quite thought this through as much as I'd considered I had. I'd been expecting to have to go through a screening process, but not quite this extensive with names being passed up a whole ladder of minions. Weren't politicians supposed to be accessible?. More

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