Tony has some good news amid the gloom, Cherie yearns for the yacht, while Baby Leo rejoices that Daddy has made peace.
Scene 1: No 10. Tony is powdering his bald patch ready for a news conference. John Prescott, in sunhat and shorts, comes tumbling through the door singing a Cliff Richard standard.
Prescott [singing]: We're all going on a summer holiday. No more working for a week or . . . [Breaking off.] Tony! What're you doing here?
Tony: Hi, John.
Prescott: Why aren't you relaxing on some rich bloke's yacht?
Tony: Impossible with the Middle East in flames.
Prescott: But you love sailing.
Tony: I know, but the papers'd crucify me. "Blair basks while Beirut burns." I need to stay here and look as if I'm influencing events. In and out of limousines. On and off the phone. Anxious soundbites, statesmanlike frowns - for as long as the war goes on. I owe it to history.
Prescott: So what's the latest?
Tony: There's a rather good shot of me in the Independent -
Prescott: In the Middle East.
Tony: Oh, well, there is some positive news, but I suspect the crisis will last till September.
Prescott: God. What a disaster.
Tony: I know.
Prescott: I won't get to run the country at all.
Tony: Like I said, there is some positive news.
Scene 2: A corridor in No 10. Cherie and Leo in T-shirts and sunglasses are squatting on their bags waiting for Tony. He emerges from his office after another gruelling conference call.
Cherie: Tony, please! We've been here for three days. What's happening?
Tony: Be patient, darling. I'm trying to broker a deal between France and America, but it's a nightmare getting them to communicate. Chirac can speak English but thinks he mustn't and Bush can't speak English but thinks he must. They're impossible.
Cherie: Any news from the UN?
Tony: Nearly there. They've been negotiating for a week and they were about to issue a resolution this morning when the Arab League objected to a semicolon on page four.
Cherie: Well, just remove it.
Tony: Of course. But where does it go? Displaced punctuation marks have refugee status under international law. And who'd be responsible for its shelter and upkeep? Imagine if it turned up here and applied for asylum? The Daily Mail would have a field day. No, we need that semicolon in place or the deal's off.
Cherie: Oh, this is ridiculous. Tony, I'm desperate for a break.
Tony: I know -
Cherie: All I want is to laze around on a yacht having my chi perked up and chatting to Cliff.
Tony: Yes. We all need his calming aura. [Beat.] There's the phone again.
Tony exits. Gordon and Sarah trundle past. They're off for a fortnight in the Travelodge at Largs. Gordon does a final baggage check.
Gordon: Two babies. Two buggies. Four cardies. Four sou'westers.
Twenty thermal blankets. Eight kilos of Kendal mint cake and a tarpaulin in case we go on a picnic.
Sarah glances enviously at Cherie with her beach gear.
Sarah: Gordie, have you ever thought about a yachting holiday?
Gordon: Where's the fun in that?
Sarah: Well, you just lie around on deck all day, reading.
Gordon: In the open air? We'd freeze to death. Now put your mittens on and let's go.
Scene 3: Two days later. Cherie is upstairs in the sitting room with Leo. He's building an ashram out of Lego.
Leo: Is our holiday starting today?
Cherie: I hope so, darling. Daddy's still busy.
Leo: Why?
Cherie: He's making peace.
Leo: Why?
Cherie: It's nice and everyone likes it.
Leo: Does the holiday start when Daddy's made peace?
Cherie: Yes, darling.
Leo: Is Daddy on TV?
Cherie: Let's see.
She hits the remote and searches for a news channel.
Leo: Is Uncle Gordon on TV?
Cherie: Mm. Doubt it. There's a Middle East crisis so he's probably taken a vow of silence.
Cherie finds BBC News 24, where David Cameron is reacting to the latest atrocities. Leo bursts out laughing.
Leo: Hamster Face! Hamster Face!
The TV cuts to a haggard-looking Tony giving a live statement outside No 10.
Leo: It's Daddy.
Cut to a bombed city in flames. Bodies are being carried from the ruins. It's not clear if it's Haifa, Beirut or Baghdad.
Leo: Has Daddy made peace?
Cherie: Soon, darling.
A few minutes later Tony comes in, exhausted.
Tony: Right. Done what I can for now. Let's go. I'll manage the crisis from Cliff's place.
Cherie: Thank God. Leo, our holiday's starting.
Tony: Give me five minutes to draft a statement saying we're putting in secure telephone lines and converting Cliff's chapel into a war room.
Cherie: OK.
Leo: You made peace, Daddy.
Tony: Er, not quite.
Leo: Mummy said the holiday starts when you've made . . .
His voice is drowned out by the news report showing more bombs slamming into another unnamed city. Clouds of smoke rise over shattered tower blocks.
Leo: Peace! Daddy's made peace!
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