Monday: What a weekend. Despite the intervention of Heather McCartney-Mills, three former Lord Chancellors and, belatedly, Carol Vorderman, it took the police 48 hours to release me from detention under the Prevention of Terrorism Act. Finally, they admitted that leading a Goldfish Action Group protest at a fairground against the new Animal Welfare Bill was not likely to preface a major terrorist incident, even if I was surrounded by placards showing Tony Blair in an unflattering light. Carol, who had been persuaded by her greatest living fan, my Neanderthal flatmate Vorderman (he changed his name out of admiration) to join the GAG demo outside the police station where I was being held, kindly gave me a lift home, still in nothing but the GAG goldfish costume I'd been wearing when I was arrested.
The ride gave me the perfect opportunity to uncover her true feelings for Des Lynam, her new co-host on Countdown. She was hardly confidential, but perhaps sharing your secrets is hard when your confidant is struggling to get the seat belt over his orange papier-mache fins.
Waiting at home for me were David, our chairman, Jerome, our dreary head of publications, Clare, head of policy, and Anka, our Latvian receptionist.
It was only then that I remembered that Anka and I were meant to be having dinner that night to try to rekindle our brief office romance. Fat chance of that with six people in our shoebox sitting room and Vorderman in deep decline because Carol had refused him a date. Clare had made a celebration prune and lentil risotto. We sprinkled goldfish food on it instead of Parmesan because David suggested a symbolic act of solidarity with our client group. By ten o'clock, everyone had left me to cope with Vorderman's tears. Anka was clutching her stomach as a result of the horrid food.
Luckily, Jerome took away his bottle of vintage goldfish tank water wine.
Tuesday: David has issued a blanket ban on me giving interviews about my ordeal at the hands of the police. GAG has been getting too much of the wrong kind of publicity of late, he said. First the strike, and now caught up in a political row.
Friday: Back to business. As a sop for having to turn down being the guest presenter on Have I Got News For You, David took me with him to a lunch with David Attenborough. My David was hoping to persuade the other David to make a six-part series, The Secret Life of Goldfish. Sir David seemed unconvinced they had one. Trying to lighten the atmosphere, I threw in the name of Bill Oddie as a possible co-presenter, at which point one David suddenly remembered a pressing engagement and the other David looked as if he would have been delighted if the police had been able to hold me for 90 days.