His once hard angular face seemed to have softened and weakened. The kitchen wireless was blaring out Dame Enid's latest tone poem; the New Statesman and the Times Literary Supplement lay on the kitchen table all giving Rupert an unpleasant feeling of deja vu. 'I suppose none of you has had the decency to tell Cameron. And there was Declan's bloody signature tune blaring out.
Rupert Campbell-Black shook his head. 'We promised them a cross between Camelot and Utopia,' said Declan, 'and now we've got to justify it. Oh, certainly, certainly! Right across the yard. He was totally disillusioned with Tony.
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