The reign of terror is like the recession - a double dip affair, a W-shaped ride through purgatory. Last week many of that poor persecuted species known as “the Accused” (formerly “parliamentarians”) felt able to come out of the lavatories and safe havens into which they'd retreated. The impression was that the sirens had sounded. We could confidently walk the streets of the constituency again to the usual chorus of “how lovely to see you” and “it's good of you to visit Grimsby so often between elections”, that always greets me in the town. But it turns out we're still the quarry. The strategy of keep your head down and pretend you're a common criminal or a pimp rather than an MP, is still essential.

Resignations are still going on. Kitty Ussher has just been forced out for doing what was officially approved but now turns out to be morally wrong for MPs, whose job it is to set an example no one will follow. The Daily Telegraph is still digging, so the dustbins and the Land Registry must be raking in a bonanza in fees.

Today everything claimed on anything over the past four years is published. The current year's claims will follow in a few weeks. We're all worried stiff about what the hell's in there. Safer to go on a summer holiday fact-finding mission to Afghanistan than to stick around in the Grimsby stocks (thoughtfully preserved for occasions like this). Personally, I'm hoping to get on a delegation to the Solomon Islands to teach them the rudiments of democracy - with special emphasis on the rude.

Parliamentary publication is a process of closing stable doors after the horses, the Speaker and about a dozen MPs have bolted. It's well intentioned but too late and will have the effect of making everything look worse. Great chunks of what is published are blacked out even more liberally than documents about the origins of the Iraq war. This will only start constituents wondering what's being kept from them and will provoke more objections and criticisms than Gordon Brown's daft decision to hold the Iraq inquiry in secret.

Gordon's inquiry will also probably end in a report with huge sections blacked out, but that was only about a war so it will attract less criticism than our expenses claims.

In its desire to get maximum value for the thousands of pounds they paid for the stolen files, the Telegraph published everything. So items that were claimed but never paid, such as the famous duck house, or my security blinds - which have, in fact, stopped the burglaries, although I'm worried lest they begin again now that the Telegraph has published a photograph of the flat of a wealthy peer, saying that we live in the same block. The intention was to show us as greedy social climbers with banker-like living standards. It has worked, so the deletion of letters from accountants telling MPs what “switching” is tax-efficient and legal, or the names of suppliers of pork pies is now irrelevant. Yet it could mean that I'll get letters from the Seafish Authority asking why there was so little fish in my diet, or from Mr Pettit, Grimsby's brilliant butcher, asking why I wasn't buying meat from him, but from some London supplier whose name he can't read.

MPs aren't, however, allowed to do any blacking out themselves. I've spent days wondering why a bottle of Laphroaig and a half bottle of gin, neither of which I drink, were claimed for on a Sainsbury's bill.

I was made the butt of a million jokes by a claim for Branston pickle, so everywhere I go in Grimsby they ask if I've brought the Branston, or ask for jars as raffle prizes. I paid the money back to the fees office because booze should not have been claimed for in the first place. But it does me no good. They say the booze can't now be deleted. Perhaps I should ask for my money back. What's the use of being virtuous if no one knows?

The public are so angry that they certainly won't believe it. The shakedown, which is now pouring money back into the fees office, would yield more payback if we could get it shown on the Parliament Channel, recorded in Hansard or even deleted from those published accounts. We can't.

So it's time for revenge. Our party leaders haven't been prepared to defend their parliamentary flocks. They have competed to see who can be most brutal to protect themselves, at the cost of blighting several careers. They've allowed mob lynchings and kangaroo courts that show no concern for justice to Members who have made a sterling contribution, such as Douglas Hogg, Elliot Morley and Ian Gibson. All have been given the bum's rush. No account has been taken of the views of local parties who surely know MPs best. All this has been done to protect the reputation of leaders who caused the problem in the first place.

So, if leaders can't be loyal to us, why should we be loyal to them? My revenge will be exquisite. I am going to publish the letters of advice I have been sending to Gordon since he took over as leader. All the sycophantic drivel one writes on these occasions such as “you are the best leader we've had since Tony Blair” or “thank heavens you follow through on all your promises”, will be heavily blacked out. All the good things I suggested he should do, such as an election in September 2007, dropping 92 days, ID cards and Trident, and a huge social housing drive, will be underlined. I will write in the consequences of his failure to follow my advice, and I'll send the lot to the Telegraph (Poste Restante Brecqhou).

Along with it, I'll send a series of digitally remastered photographs of me sitting at the Cabinet table serving Branston pickle, or slumped over the Prime Minister's shoulders waving a bottle of Laphroaig, shouting: “It's all free in Parliament.” Revenge will, I hope, be even sweeter than the bloody Branston pickle.

Austin Mitchell is the Labour MP for Great Grimsby

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