Such things should happen only in nightmares. Andy Burnham, still wearing L-plates, could not find the desired page of his notes at PMQs. Kemi Badenoch kept asking questions – damn, prickly questions – and our new Prime Minister flicked urgently through his A4 folder. He thought he had a useful fact somewhere. But where was the blasted thing?
Back six pages. Flick, flick, lick of fingertip. Nope. Forward ten. Flick, flick. Increasing pressure. A hot flush at the back of his neck. Rising panic.
Preparing the file is a ceremonial responsibility of a PM’s parliamentary private secretary. At present this person is
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