The curious case of the missing cabinet ministers.

It was on a grey and drizzly afternoon that I found myself standing at my habitual vantage point outside the Cabinet Office at 70 Whitehall, London—a favourite haunt of mine, where, as a humble political photographer, one might reliably encounter ministers of the Crown, senior officials, and an intriguing variety of distinguished visitors. Until recently, it was an admirable post from which to capture candid glimpses of the workings of government.

Yet, my dear Watson, there has arisen a most curious circumstance that has puzzled me profoundly. Since the commencement of the year 2025, these familiar figures—cabinet ministers and their distinguished guests—have become conspicuously absent. They have, it appears, vanished like shadows into the London fog.

Now, a photographer such as myself relies little on whispered intelligence or insider briefings. My methods are akin to your faithful chronicling of our adventures: patient observation, careful deduction, and long hours spent waiting in quiet contemplation. Indeed, my patience had seldom gone unrewarded, until now.

Three theories presently occupy the minds of my fellow observers. Allow me, Watson, to lay them out before you.

Firstly, there is the theory of idleness—that the cabinet ministers have become indolent, preferring leisure to duty. An experienced and respectable colleague suggested this possibility, but I dismissed it forthwith. Men and women entrusted with the governance of the Empire would scarcely forsake their duties lightly.

Secondly, there is the proposition of increased virtual meetings. While technology might permit such practices, one cannot ignore the significant drawbacks. As you know, Watson, from your study of human character, much communication resides beyond mere spoken words, in the subtle language of gestures and expressions. Virtual meetings fail to capture such subtleties, and, moreover, are vulnerable to breaches of secrecy.

Thirdly, and most intriguingly, there is the theory that these ministers seek deliberately to evade the prying lenses of photographers—specifically myself and my colleagues. The political landscape is rife with attempts to control narratives, and I myself witnessed such efforts during recent electoral events. I recall vividly the curious incident when a press officer sought to restrict my photographic subjects, claiming an obscure "arrangement" prohibited me from capturing certain images. Naturally, Watson, I refused to yield to such absurd conditions.

Indeed, my observations have confirmed curious patterns of late. Ministerial vehicles have increasingly frequented Downing Street precisely during times previously reserved for meetings within the Cabinet Office. Moreover, the presence of photographers like myself seems immediately reported by vigilant guards—a fact that arouses suspicion.

Why, you may ask, is this matter of consequence? Quite simply, Watson, democracy thrives on visibility and openness. Should these ministers increasingly shroud their movements in secrecy, one naturally wonders what they might be hiding. History teaches us that secrecy breeds suspicion and mistrust, and inevitably gives rise to darker theories.

Furthermore, such secrecy may compel some photographers towards more covert and questionable practices, to the detriment of both press and state. Surely, it is in everyone's interest that the workings of government remain visible to the scrutiny of the public eye.

And so, Watson, the case of the missing cabinet ministers remains open and unresolved—a curious affair indeed. As you well know, secrecy is a potent catalyst for rumour and intrigue. To quote Orwell, a thinker whom you admire greatly, "Ignorance is strength." But I would rather counter, my dear Watson, that clarity and openness are the true pillars of democracy. Until then, I shall continue my watch, camera in hand, ever alert for the reappearance of our elusive ministers.