According to Giles Coren, who writes the daily Diary in the London Times, an Irish Times "hack" called him very recently to say that this office was glad to see Mandy go, "and here's for why: you'd go into his Stormont office, and there'd be copies of The Irish Times all over the floor for his dogs to befoul. It didn't dispose you to write nicely of the man, knowing Jack and Bobby would be piddling on your byline in the morning."
Dear, oh dear. Can this be true, you ask? The London Times Diary is of course a mish-mash of fact and obvious fiction, but we must accept that the story, presented as fact, is indeed fact. It is nevertheless deeply embarrassing to think of an Irish Times journalist taking pleasure in Peter Mandelson's fall from grace, merely because of foolish professional pride in a byline. It is even more embarrassing to think of a journalist from this office saying "and here's for why".
However, we in the Irish Times have moved swiftly. Our damage limitation strategy has been rapidly implemented. We have already identified the culprit. In fact, he has resigned.
It hasn't ended there, however. The confusion has deepened after it was alleged that evidence which might have helped his case did not get passed on to Tony Blair, beg pardon, to the editor, in time.
The evidence supports the reporter's claim that he did not recollect making the telephone call to Giles Coren. The records are understood to show that the initial call was made between secretaries, after which the Home Office, beg pardon, the London Times office suggested a direct call, reporter to reporter, but did not have a record of whether this took place.
Our reporter's friends now claim he had faced a "kangaroo court", and the reporter himself believes he should not have been so quick to resign, saying: "I should have fought for time to allow a fuller examination of the facts." Ironic in view of his profession, of course.
Meanwhile another disgraced journalist has rowed in to defend our reporter, telling a close friend that our man was guilty of no more than "a moment of ebullience" when he agreed to the phone call being made.
The phrase echoes the "moment of madness" phrase, the description in this other journalist's resignation letter of his own conduct in the Phoenix Park which forced him to step down from a senior editorial post three years ago.
We all have our moments, but press people seem to have more than most. One poor man left this office in disgrace last year after a mere "moment of foolishness" with a female trainee in a stationery cupboard.
Another young woman, a reporter of great promise, left hurriedly after a "moment of complete idiocy" regarding a publicly-expressed estimation of her boss's usefulness. A male journalist very close to retirement age departed prematurely after a "moment of transparent insanity" involving a barmaid in our local, Doyles.
Meanwhile, much is being made of the description "curiously detached", as applied to the unfortunate Mr Mandelson by Tony Blair's press spokesman, Alastair Campbell.
Curiously detached? Already we have had to endure rather predictable jokes about "semi-detached" politicians, and no doubt it will soon be common currency that a certain politician is, in his outlook and attitudes, "rather terraced", or even worse, mid-terraced.
Another will be accused of taking a "mews approach" (or perhaps a a maisonette or mansion approach) to his job, while a really bad case of detachment will no doubt be "a complete bungalow".
After that, political commentators will develop theories about ministers with "two-storey appeal", political parties will be likened to "gated communities" and soon the entire fabulous language of property will be ransacked for political purposes.
Finally, the best-selling author Robert Harris wrote a piece in Tuesday's London Independent defending Mr Mandelson. He stated clearly that he wrote as a friend of the politician, which he added was "a role rapidly turning into a full-time professional occupation".
It is, and about time, too. These days, being a friend to an important person(age) is an all-consuming business. Emotionally, it is more demanding than being an adviser, an aide or even a spouse. Since everything must have a valuation (as opposed to a mere value) these days, it is only right that the price of such friendship should now be established.