Laura Kuenssberg

Last night's must-see TV show was Bury Boris – the Movie. In anticipation, the BBC released a trailer for a Panorama edition about parties in Downing Street ...

‘Contained fury, simmering anger,’ she’s telling herself, ‘like a volcano ready to blow.’ At the same time, there’s a touch of Hattie Jacques about her anxious pouts and her puritanical head-tilting frowns. Surely, she asks a witness, the prime minister tried to stop the parties and to shoo everyone home? ‘People stood shoulder to shoulder,’ says the unknown clerk in a halting voice. The documentary aired to the sweet tune of online outrage: 'WTF didn't stand for Wine Time Fridays when I shouted at my TV!' Will there be a sequel to Bury Boris? Let’s hope so. She’s a professional, of course, and she keeps her motivation to herself but she clearly wants her expression to reach a sublime pitch of emotion. Find them and give them a fixed penalty notice. Yet another phrase has been added to the No. 10 lexicon of infamy. The visual grammar is familiar from war zones and terrorist hotspots. A few bitter civil servants, probably passed over for promotion, are vengefully attacking the bosses who failed to reward their brilliance. It opens with a shot of a dodgy skinhead in a sleazy overcoat being released from Wormwood Scrubs. Or is it an international money-launderer being secretly filmed at Davos? Or perhaps a premiership star on his way to court for kicking his dog. ‘Can you tell us what happened?’ The interrogator is Laura Kuenssberg, the BBC’s in-house Inspector Rebus. She even has a Scottish accent. An anonymous witness replies: ‘There was about 30 people, if not more, in a room.’ The whistleblowers are filmed in silhouette, their voices dubbed by unemployed actors, their testimony delivered in nervy staccato bursts.