This of course turns the spotlight back on Jacqui Smith, the Home Secretary, who has been fighting a desperate rearguard action recently regarding her Parliamentary expenses, and life is not getting any easier for her. Yesterday it was announced that the gentleman who died during the G20 protests - who was filmed being treated rather harshly by the police just before he collapsed - did not die from a heart attack, as the original autopsy found before the video was made public, but of abdominal bleeding.
Added to that, someone who attended the vigil for Ian Tomlinson at Bank Junction the day after his death was also filmed being slapped and batoned by an officer of the Territorial Support Group, who had covered up his epaulettes with duct tape so his number couldn't be seen, in contravention of police rules.
These are not resignation issues for Jacqui Smith, who can easily hand them off onto the police, but they do make her life more eventful than she probably wants.
I should add a personal note here. There's a photo of Jacqui Smith at a pyjama party when she was at Oxford - nothing scurrilous, hell, I did a lot worse, best beloved - and I could swear I recognise her from that pic. She's two years younger than me, but I took a year out before I went to Nottingham, so we did overlap at university, and, life being what it is, it's not beyond the realms of possibility that she might have been visiting and we might have bumped into each other at a party. The likelihood is one of those Schrodinger's Cat things, where you look at it properly and everything collapses into a negative state, but I see her on television and I can't shake the sense that I know her from somewhere...
If I'm right, she's done a great deal better in her chosen career than I have. And I wouldn't want to spend a single moment in her shoes.