Just Because You're Paranoid, Doesn't Mean The Bastards Aren't Out To Get You.

Well, I wish I could say it's nice to be back at work, but it isn't. Mainly because Vicky the mad hair-flicker is still covering for Marie-Louise, though I can't say I can see much sign of her doing any actual work.

Greg and I can't even manage to have a proper conversation as, every time we start talking, she seems to appear from nowhere. What sort of woman can move silently in four inch heels?

He resorts to passing me notes after an hour or so, all labelled "Eat this once read." He draws a skull and crossbones on each one, too - just in case I haven't already got the message.

By lunchtime, I can't stand the taste of paper any longer, so we go to the pub for a secret emergency meeting.

"How's it been?" I say. "Any sign of Marie-Louise coming back to work any time soon?"

"No," says Greg. "Would help if Andrew would apologise for whatever it was he did to upset her so much, but he seems quite happy with the status quo. He wouldn't even sign the 'get well' card that I sent her."

"What 'get well' card?" I say. "What about me?"

"Oh, don't worry. I forged your signature. It's a lot easier than Andrew's - I practised first, but his was impossible, so I had to give up."

"That's not what I meant! You didn't send me a card."

"Well, you were just malingering. And it's not your job that Vicky's after - or at least, I don't think it is."

Then he shows me a print-out of an article about Jim Devine MP, and what he allegedly did to his office manager to get rid of her.

"Bloody hell," I say. "They think they're a law unto themselves, don't they?"

"I told you to keep up with the outside world while you were ill," says Greg. "I'm thinking of sending it anonymously to The Boss, just to get him to stop acting like such an idiot."

"Do you think it'll work?"

"Probably not, but it's worth a try, isn't it?"

"I don't know. It might just give him the idea of getting rid of me instead," I say. "Marion Kinley was doing my job, after all - not the diary."

"Hmm," says Greg. I really don't like the way he says that.

"Hmm, what? Now what's he up to?"

"Well, he did mention that I could find Vicky some casework to do, while you were away. I didn't, but he seemed awfully keen."

Bloody, bloody hell. It seems I should have spent less time dreaming about Martin Shaw and watching the miner's rescue while I was ill, and more thinking about how to protect myself from the Vicky threat.

I might be good at watching The Boss' back, but I'm not very good at watching my own, as the Ellen situation demonstrates only too clearly. I just hope I don't end up needing a judge or a Manuel Gonzalez to save my bacon.