Parliament, a strike, and inflation-they were all yesterday stories. There was not much he could do with them. Any of them could be dressed up with a today intro, like "Cabinet Ministers today held an inquest on the Government's narrow escape…" There was one of those for every situation. Yesterday's disaster became today's news story with "Dawn today revealed the full horror…" Yesterday's murder benefited from "Detectives today searched London for the man who…" Arthur's problem had given birth to scores of cliche's. In a civilized society, he thought, when there was no news there would be no newspapers. It was an old thought, and he brushed it out of his mind impatiently.

Everyone accepted that the first edition was rubbish three days out of six. But that gave no comfort, because it was the reason Arthur Cole had the job of producing that edition. He had been deputy news editor for five years. Twice during that period the news editor's chair had fallen vacant, and both times a younger man than Cole had been promoted. Someone had decided that the number-two job was the limit of his capabilities. He disagreed.

The only way he could demonstrate his talent was by turning out an excellent first edition. Unfortunately, how good the edition was depended largely upon luck. Cole's strategy was to aim for a paper which was consistently slightly better than the opposition's first edition. He thought he was succeeding: whether anyone upstairs had noticed, he had no idea; and he would not let himself worry about it.

George came up behind him and dumped a pile of newspapers on his desk. "Young Stephen's reported sick again," he grumbled.

Arthur smiled. "What is it-a hangover or a runny nose?"