Chapter 25 In which Pangloss and Charlie visit the offices of the Westphalia Express

'This discussion about education and money is getting us nowhere fast, said Pangloss with a sigh. I want to know who this blogging bloke is, and to put it bluntly, I want his bloody blogging blocked.'
'Well, what have we got? said Charlie. He knows a bit of French, and appears to be in his forties from the description the barman at the Conservative Club gave us. That's about it, isn't it?'
'Not quite, Charlie old boy, not quite. He started the Piddlebackside blog to poke fun at you and me, but then there was the other website, the newspaper spoof. And I'm forgetting that bloody journo who came and interviewed me - he was the one who warned me about the space time continuum and all that bloody nonsense. What was name? Leyland, I think. His line of questioning wasn't exactly what you'd call sympathetic - I'm sure he knows a lot more than he was letting on.'
'Did he work for the Westphalia Express?' asked Charlie.
'No, as I recall he said he was freelance. Charlie, I think it's time we started fighting back. Let's pay our friend the editor at the Westphalia Express a visit. I bet he'll be able to shed some light on this mystery hack.'

When Pangloss and Charlie Windsor arrived at the reception of the Westphalia Express it was business as usual. The working environment at the paper had the feel of a 19th-century cotton mill combined with all the fun of a slave ship when supplies are running low. Journalism seemed to be a trade which had been completed by-passed by all the recent advances in legislation related to the workplace. As the internet had eaten into newspaper circulation and advertising revenue there had been savage staffing cuts. Those that were 'lucky' to still be in a job after the axe had fallen had more and more work to do. They were always chasing what seemed like impossible deadlines. There was no going out for a lunch break - you grabbed a sandwich in front of the PC, and if you wanted a coffee you combined it with a trip to the loo - that was time management Westphalia Express-style. No-one wanted to be seen to be clock-watching and knocking off before their colleagues for fear of being the firing line the next time there was any 'rationalisation' to be done. Just to cap it all off, there was the reassuring knowledge that the same company, Southcliffe Newspapers, owned just about every other local newspaper in the area, so the chances of getting another job in the industry were virtually zero. If you took out the classified ads, the readers' letters and the bits and pieces of parish news provided cheaply by local people there was very little in it the paper; if you then took out the pictures of the mayor you were left with barely enough to wrap some chips in.

'So you think this blogger is someone close to a journalist, eh?' asked the editor, once they were in his office.
'Or maybe it is a journalist,' said Pangloss.
'Yes, said the editor. I've had my suspicions as well. Must be someone who's used to working quickly, used to proof reading and meeting tight deadlines. Leyland, you say his name was? It doesn't ring any bells, but maybe that's a pseudonym. Even though it's going to be part of a shiny new city Westphalia-on-Sea is still a small town, and everybody knows everybody else's business.'
The editor picked up the phone and said: 'Anja, send in Mr Staedtler.'
There weren't many hacks on the Cote de Westphalia that Deputy Editor John Staedtler hadn't come across.
'Staedtler, know any hacks by the name Leyland?'
'No guv. Probably not his real name, anyway.'
'That's what I thought. Right, get on the internet and search for freelance journalists in the area - let's see if that throws up anything connected to the name Leyland. And get on that blog and check the times of the postings and comments, then talk to technical support and see if anything matches up time-wise with email traffic out of this place; I'm still not convinced it's not one of our own.'
'Maybe someone with an axe to grind, guv?'
'Well, that doesn't exactly narrow it down, does it John? While you're at it, get the techies to deny access to that blog - maybe that'll flush 'em out. And check who's had time off recently - they may have been doing it from home.'
'Goodness, said Pangloss. You seem even keener to find this character than I am.'
'Too right, replied the editor. If this goes on for much longer and one of the nationals picks it up there's going to be hell to pay. Who's to say Private Eye won't do a feature in their Street of Shame column? It's already been on the local radio, for Christ's sake. This guy'd better not be an insider, that's all I can say.'
Just as the editor was finishing his sentence the door burst open. 'Guv, said the breathless reporter, got something big - the boys in blue have just seized fifty grand's worth of coke in an armed raid.'
'Bingo! said the editor. Right, that's the front page - move that bollocks about the college being a university to page two. Dr Pangloss, I'm afraid I'm going to have to bump you off the front page as well. John, where can we put the mayor today?'
'I've got the back page guv, and the inside back page - two big photo ops.'
'I haven't got to go back to the football ground, have I?' asked Pangloss, looking worried.
'No, no, said Staedtler. It's just archery over at Fishhole. We'll get you over there with a photographer. I'm not sure about that turtleneck sweater with a sports jacket, though; is that your idea of 'casual', Mr Mayor?'
'Yes, it is, replied the mayor. Don't you like it?'