‘That was filmed a month ago. June died just last week.’ The room gulps. Tudor’s voice is almost a whisper. But now it rises, becoming angry. ‘That is why our first pledge for this election is that in every year of a Labour government, we will increase NHS funding by 4 per cent above the retail price index rate of inflation. This is our first promise, the most important promise, a real 4 per cent for the NHS.’ And projected on the screen behind him is: ‘Because June deserved better, a real 4 per cent for our NHS.’

For an instant, everything is still, silent. And then we’re abuzz with murmurs about the drama we’ve witnessed and the massive spending commitment Tudor’s just made. It feels like a big moment.

‘Over to you for questions,’ says Tudor. ‘Roger Oaks from the BBC?’

There is a hierarchy to the questions that are called. The BBC always goes first, followed by ITV and then Sky, and then the BBC again for some reason. Print hacks are relegated to the undercard.

‘If I may,’ says the silver-haired Oaks, all old-school courtesy, ‘Mr Todd, you’ve already said that Labour won’t put up income taxes. How will you pay for this very expensive NHS commitment? Aren’t you reinforcing the charge you can’t be trusted with the nation’s finances.’

Todd opens his mouth to reply – but Tudor beats him to it. ‘This is for me,’ he says briskly. ‘We will be giving a detailed account of how each and every one of our spending promises will be funded, over the course of the campaign. I can reassure you that there will be fiscal rrrrectitude in everything we do, unlike Ramsey’s Big British Bankruptcy.’

Belatedly, he turns back to Todd. ‘Do you want to add anything, Johnny?’

‘I think you covered it,’ he replies, with a flicker of irritation, so subtle it won’t be caught by the cameras.

The press conference continues. Predictably, most of the questions are focused on whether Labour’s spending promises are affordable. Scott and I have been waving our hands frenziedly in the air, hoping we’ll be seen by Tudor. I’m starting to think it’s not going to happen – there are only two or three minutes left, and the aides are looking at their watches – when I hear Tudor’s unmistakeable voice calling my name.

‘Mr Peck. What have you got to say for yourself?’

A Labour flack passes me a microphone. I panic at the thought of being on TV. Deep breath. ‘You need to raise money,’ I begin. ‘What is your policy on the dividend tax credit system that gives pension funds five billion pounds each year? Would you abolish it?’

This is a technical question, obviously one for Tudor. He sucks in his cheeks. ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to wait for our manifesto for that. But what I will say –’