Erica knew that I had something on my plate for months. I wasn't sleeping well, I was irritable, and I wouldn't tell anything confidential to Erica. She nicknamed it "the bloody issue". We were going away on summer holiday—Ōtama beach, a beautiful spot in Coromandel—and Martin Dunne said to me, "Well, how are we going to get hold of you if you need to front this thing?" And I said, "I dunno. There's no cell phone tower out there. The signal's crap." He said, "Don't worry, I'll send a police car out to get you if you need to front." So every day the sun went down, Martin, I thought, now I can have a beer; the cops haven't arrived. I was loading the car up for camping and I'd done a pretty good job, ticked off everything. I put my suit bag across the top of it. Erica came out to check everything off. She said, "What's that bloody suit doing coming away with us on our summer holiday?", and I said, "It's the bloody issue." She slammed the boot on the car, and, of course, the day that that story broke, she duly texted me saying, "I see your bloody issue is in the media." Can I congratulate the Government on stepping up with the M. bovis response. You've done the right thing. I salute you.