A phrase originating in the satirical weekly Private Eye, and now in common use in British journalism. It indicates that the editor has emerged blearily from an on-going alcoholic lunch just long enough to be aware that a writer's opinion doesn't seem to toe the official line.

I haven't an example to hand, but this is the sort of thing:

A spokesgnome for the proprietor of this newspaper defended the action, saying it was normal journalistic practice, of blameless integrity, and he would fix the conniving bastard who had grassed on him (shurely shome mishtake? - Ed.).

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