Right, the lunch.

I've gone with the Guardian. I thought maybe not the Mail.

They might be nice to your face, then brand you a man-hating Euro-slag.

Ollie, if you had to choose three nasty adjectives that described me, what would they be? I'm sorry?

Malcolm mentioned a pejorative word

I hadn't thought of before, so I'm keen to get your take.

OK. Top three. Yes.

Um...

sour?

OK.

Grumpy.

And uptight.

Yeah, OK.

I mean, why not egg-and-spoon? Egg-and-spoon would have been better than sack.

Yeah, but, egg on face. She must go spooner rather than later.

If you'd dropped it, Yolk-o Oh No.

Morning. Secretary of State.

Yes. Something terrible has happened.

Lovely, Terri. Beautifully finessed.

What? It's my duty to advise you of Appendix 4 of the Data Protection Act's advisory notes

to government departments.

It sounds like you're arresting me. Appendix what? Shut it, we'll ask the questions here, Ma'am.

I was being a policewoman.

Somebody explain in simple terms what has happened,

because at the moment I think I've wandered in to a cryptic crossword compiled by Rumpel-fucking-stiltskin.

Basically, every British citizen who has arrived here in the last seven-and-a-half months,

their names have been wiped.

The immigration database is blank.

Oh, fuck! Oh! Fuck! This is a fucking disaster.

The last hope was that Ollie had it on that thing, what is it? A memory, er, stick.

I only said it because it looked like you were going to self-harm.

They've got to be somewhere, surely.

They're not actually in that drawer. I'm getting Nurofen, Terri.

Do you not back up, you people?

I back up. I don't even know what backing up means.

I really thought today we'd start the fightback.