The appointment of Peter Mandelson as the UK's ambassador to Washington has proven to be the political equivalent of a boomerang - except this one keeps hitting the government in the face, and today it's coming back with gusto. One senior figure wearily summed it up as 'another one of those weeks,' which is government-speak for 'we're about to have a very bad Tuesday.'
The scale of the document release set to land in the Commons is staggering: over 1,000 pages, making it the largest government publication ever plopped before Parliament, save for the Chilcot Inquiry's 12-volume, 2.6-million-word opus. The first tranche back in March was a mere 147-page appetizer; now we're getting the full, 160-plus-page main course of Lord Mandelson's text messages and WhatsApps.
Downing Street says the bundle - three volumes, printed and bound like the world's most awkward coffee table book - will hit the government website around 14:30, followed by a statement from Chief Secretary Darren Jones. Officials have spent 'thousands of hours' collating this, because nothing says 'efficient government' like a massive document dump that everyone will read with the same enthusiasm as a dental appointment.
The PM's spokesman, with the straight face of a man who has seen things, called it 'the largest ever response' to a humble address, promising 'unprecedented' transparency - which in government-speak means 'we're releasing this because we legally have to, and we'll redact anything that makes us look truly terrible.' The documents promise a fascinating internal look at how government works: private interactions, information flows, and disagreements, all laid bare like a political autopsy.
Those who understand the Washington embassy describe it as a government department unto itself, connected to everything from military secrets to the Chagos Islands row - though much of that will likely be redacted on national security grounds, because some things are too embarrassing even for public consumption.
Government insiders are bracing for the inevitable awkwardness of messages they assumed were forever private being catapulted into the light. Words like 'excruciating,' 'sycophantic,' and 'cringeworthy' are being bandied about - because nothing says 'diplomatic savvy' like lavish praise for a sacked powerbroker that you might later have to explain to a journalist.
We're not expecting to see Mandelson's vetting file, despite The Guardian's reports of concerns about his associations with China, Russia, and Israel. Sir Olly Robbins, former head of the Foreign Office, told MPs he granted security clearance with 'mitigations' in place, but today's documents probably won't include those. Mandelson himself, for the record, says there were no security concerns, he wasn't asked to do anything about them, and everyone's got their details muddled. That's his story, and he's sticking to it.
Commercial conflicts of interest from Mandelson's now-defunct consulting firm Global Counsel were handled by the deputy head of mission overseeing dealings with those companies - because nothing says 'arms-length' like having your boss's former client list managed by a colleague.
As for disappearing WhatsApp messages, the PM's spokesman says there's a review of corporate communications channels underway. Because if there's one thing that screams 'transparency,' it's investigating why the evidence keeps vanishing.
By the end of today, Downing Street hopes to be through the worst of this. But it won't be entirely over: the police investigation into Mandelson continues. He insists he hasn't acted criminally, didn't act for personal gain, and is cooperating fully. Which is exactly what someone who hasn't acted criminally would say.