Into the belly of the beast...

Parliament really is some kind of alternative reality, a kind of Disneyland in the heart of Whitehall - empty parking meters beckon, Policemen smile beatific smiles, Traffic Wardens are polite/helpful. The combined effect was to totally throw any scepticism severely off balance - and then the weirdness started...

Nothing could've prepared us for the cunning psychological tom-foolery these Parliamentarians employ. We're sitting in reception, waiting for Lord Pendry and a chubby, bald civil servant with predatory eyes, sashays past as if he's on a catwalk. Stopping at the toilet door he turns, to beam at us with a mouthful of gleaming pearly-whites, then minces through, slamming it behind him.

Unsettling. Eh ? And then he delivers the sucker punch...

With clear knowledge that we can hear his every move through the flimsy bathroom door, he unzips and at full volume proceeds to give us a perfect falsetto rendition of "I believe I can fly" by R Kelly whilst emptying his bladder.

By the time he exits, we're visibly shaken. The elderly lady sitting next to us has turned the same shade of purple as her hair. He smiles once more and sashays down a corridor.

If we seem distracted during the interview - it's down to that (and the fact that halfway through the same man pops in to deliver the post).

These Parliamentarians are devious in the extreme. We're out of our depth, swimming with sharks.