The rain is simply beginning to fall from a gray London sky as Sir Nick Clegg arrives, ducking by the site visitors and carrying what appears to be like like his laundry. Clear shirts for the photoshoot, he says, earlier than apologetically questioning if he would possibly presumably get a espresso. Inside minutes he has additional apologised for desirous to swap the leather-based membership chair he’s provided for a tough plastic one; after which, in horror, for any impression inadvertently provided that my questions would possibly ship him to sleep.
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