Confessions of a Diary Secretary, ITV1, 9pm
You couldn't approach Confessions of a Diary Secretary without thinking its source material might provide any scriptwriter with problems. If you've read Westminster diary secretary Tracey Temple's confessions of her two-year affair with her boss, the less-than-svelte Deputy Prime Minister John Prescott, you'll know they amount to little more than a minor civil servant's mundane and girlish vapourings. Unique insights about the forbidden impulses that govern the human heart? Searing revelations from within the New Labour cabinet machine? Any quotes as memorably juicy as the one uttered by the scorned girlfriend of an equally bulky politician, Nicholas Soames: sex with him, she'd said, was "like having a fully loaded wardrobe fall on you with the key still in"?
No, not really. Instead, what Tracey confided to her quotidian and mildly self-deluding diary - as serialised for a six-figure sum in a Sunday tabloid newspaper - prompted The Guardian to satirise it as The Secret Diary of Tracey Temple, Aged 43 and Three-Quarters.
As that newspaper continued, Tracey's diaries "combine the giddiness of Bridget Jones with the naivety of Adrian Mole and the ruthless honesty of Samuel Pepys".
Yet it was this disarming personal honesty and unguarded mundanity that made Confessions of a Diary Secretary - along with charming and vigorous performances from Maxine Peake and John Henshaw as its central characters - such fun to watch.
In this, I suppose it mirrored the romantic imperatives of Tracey 'n' John. All they'd wanted was a bit of meaningless fun, some harmless slap'n'tickle. The affair began in the office with a jolly public slap - to Tracey's derriere, casually administered en passant by the DPM - and was further progressed by a private caress on September 11, 2001. On that day, Tracey found herself joining the rest of the world in being transfixed by TV's as-it-happened record of the horror in New York. Tearful as well as frightened that Whitehall might be the terrorists' next target, Tracey was reassured by a tender touch from her boss. You couldn't help but divine a note of bathos in her diary entry: "I will always remember where I was on that tragic day crying my eyes out while the DPM stroked my arm."
Those areas being slapped 'n' tickled became more intimate in the immediate wake of the DPM's Christmas office party. Displaying the courtly sensibilities inherent to so many bluff Yorkshiremen, John kicked things off by briskly whipping up Tracey's skirt as he walked past her while she stood at her desk.
"I didn't upset you when I showed everyone your knickers?" John gallantly inquired later when the pair were on the dancefloor, before adding: "The last thing I need is a sexual 'arassment case."
The sexual 'arassment swiftly became mutual, although no more poetic. On Tracey's first visit to John's private apartment at Admiralty House, he rustled her up a late-night sandwich, consulting the Benny Hill Bumper Book of Suave Chat-Up Lines to ask: "Are you all right with bacon - or would you like a sausage?"
Tracey's love affair was as much about minor power as casual sex: it allowed her to receive an official excuse more quickly when she produced her "Office of the DPM" business card while complaining about late-running train services to her home in Hampshire.
She also got access to better fantasies. When Tony Blair was on his hols, Tracey wrote: "I suppose I'm having sexual relations with the Prime Minister I'm like a British Monica Lewinsky - only thinner!"
She might have been; John Prescott sure wasn't. Thankfully, Tracey spared us the details.
Why are you making commenting on The Herald only available to subscribers?
It should have been a safe space for informed debate, somewhere for readers to discuss issues around the biggest stories of the day, but all too often the below the line comments on most websites have become bogged down by off-topic discussions and abuse.
heraldscotland.com is tackling this problem by allowing only subscribers to comment.
We are doing this to improve the experience for our loyal readers and we believe it will reduce the ability of trolls and troublemakers, who occasionally find their way onto our site, to abuse our journalists and readers. We also hope it will help the comments section fulfil its promise as a part of Scotland's conversation with itself.
We are lucky at The Herald. We are read by an informed, educated readership who can add their knowledge and insights to our stories.
That is invaluable.
We are making the subscriber-only change to support our valued readers, who tell us they don't want the site cluttered up with irrelevant comments, untruths and abuse.
In the past, the journalist’s job was to collect and distribute information to the audience. Technology means that readers can shape a discussion. We look forward to hearing from you on heraldscotland.com
Comments & Moderation
Readers’ comments: You are personally liable for the content of any comments you upload to this website, so please act responsibly. We do not pre-moderate or monitor readers’ comments appearing on our websites, but we do post-moderate in response to complaints we receive or otherwise when a potential problem comes to our attention. You can make a complaint by using the ‘report this post’ link . We may then apply our discretion under the user terms to amend or delete comments.
Post moderation is undertaken full-time 9am-6pm on weekdays, and on a part-time basis outwith those hours.
Read the rules hereComments are closed on this article