After being calmed down, JoCo finally managed to negotiate a couple of minutes to present his indisputable evidence of phone hacking to a minion. But the evidence he provided to the enquiry, comprising of two messages he wrote himself on his own Twitter feed, was universally agreed to be devastating. Kinda.
"Ta-Daaaaa!!!" ejaculated Collins.
"Um, you got anything else?" said Counsel to the Enquiry, Sir Herbert Buffington-Tufton QC. "Maybe, for example, something that you didn't write yourself? And with coherent grammar?"
"Yes!" giggled JoCo. Let me just check my special private FoIA proof council email account...Ah..."
"See?" That conclusively proves that I believe I've been hacked by a local newspaper" he said "What more do you need?"
There was silence.
"See...?" said little Jon, less confidently, feeling a bit small.
Some men in funny uniforms, like big red coats, medals and knickerbockers, appeared at JoCo's shoulder before leading him gently away so as not to hurt himself on biros and stuff.
"Who the jiminy was that?" said Lord Leveson, after the dust had settled. "Not another of those local politicians trying to 'be somebody' by being hacked?"
Sir Herbert imagined dragging languidly on a huge Cuban cigar (because of course you can't actually do that indoors anymore) while in fact nearly swallowing one of those electronic cigarette things.
"Yus m'lud, I do believe it was. Shall I get someone to sort his bus ticket back up North?"
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