Un-Blue-ing Monday

And then I had this wonderful idea. And I added: 'I want you to look into it and find out who it was, okay?'

Checkmate. He realised that there was no way out. Heavily, he sat down again, paused, and then told me that there was something that he thought I ought to know.

Surreptitously I reached into my desk drawer and turned on my little pocket dictaphone. I wanted his confession to be minuted. Who not? All conversations have to be minuted. Records must be kept, mustn't they?

This is what he said. 'The identity of this official whose alleged responsibility for this hypothetical oversight has been the subject of recent speculation is not shrouded in quite such impenetrable obscurity as certain previous disclosures may have led you to assume, and, in fact, not to put too fine a point on it, the individual in question was, it may surprise you to learn, the one to whom your present interlocutor is in the habit of identifying by means of the perpendicular pronoun.'

'I beg your pardon?' I said.

There was an anguished pause.

'It was I,' he said.

==========================

Explains why I'm re-reading Yes, Minister late one Sunday evening when I still have homework I ought to finish by tomorrow?