Inside the lonely world of ‘spadville’
We approached the big black door of Number 10 Downing Street full of pride and a little trepidation. Someone pulled back the brass knocker and let it fall. Inside, the policeman opened it up and said, ‘Yes?’ ‘We’re here for the special advisers’ meeting.’ ‘Bin door.’ ‘Sorry?’ ‘Bin door. Go round the side and you’ll find another door. Someone will let you in.’ We wandered around and found a rarely used and heavily secured door with an iron grille, knocked repeatedly and waited. Eventually, we were let in. Someone barked at us to write our names on sticky notes and put them on our phones, which we deposited on two rickety tables just inside the door.
