For all she blusters, raves and moans, the lady knows that she has to resign. She never found good evidence that the MP was running a kidnapping ring, and now the press is on the story like a terrier on a rat.

It takes you all day, and a prodigious drinking session at the New Justice. You walk unsteadily back to the station with a resignation letter and her notebook. The former is stained with beer and tears. But even in this job, there are some lines you don't cross.