Scene 1: No 10. Tony has received a mysterious letter. Each word has been cut out from a newspaper headline like a ransom note.
Tony [Reading]: "Dear Tony, An honest comment from a loyalist on the turn. All great prime ministers experience four phases in their career: the ascendancy, the supremacy, the insanity and the poll tax. You're on the poll tax. Get out now! A friend."
Tony calmly takes out a sheet of notepaper and writes:
"Dear Gordon, Thank you for your letter which I enjoyed immensely. Your reluctance to admit authorship underlines your weakness and confirms my strength. Roll on Manchester! I can't wait to see your latest sad little pitch for power. I love the fake smiles, the empty jingoism, the cumbersome attempt to suggest vigour and energy, and all the other gauche flourishes which you fondly imagine will endear you to the womenfolk of Middle England. It's like watching a grizzly bear trying to use a skateboard.
"Kisses, Tony."
Scene 2: The Foreign Office. Tony has popped over for a morale-boosting chat with Margaret Beckett.
Tony: Hi, Margaret, hope you had a good holiday in the old caravan. Must be tough, getting such bad press. In fact, to show how relaxed you are on the world stage, I'm bringing you along on my Middle East peace mission.
Beckett: F***!
Tony: Er, right. We'll be meeting all the key players and trying to knock a few heads together. Quite a challenge.
Beckett: F***!
The phone rings.
Tony: Er, Margaret. The phone.
Beckett: F***!
Tony: Oh, I'll get it. [Picks up phone] Foreign Secretary's office. [Beat] Oh hi, Kofi. Tony here. Hope you're keeping that boy of yours on a tight leash. Margaret, it's the secretary general.
Beckett: F***!
Tony: Er, she's just popped out. Can I help? [Beat] Sure. I'll fix that.
He puts down the phone.
Tony: He wants us to send a token force into the new buffer zone. Tell me, Margaret, I've always wanted to know, what do you do in your caravan all day?
Beckett: F***!
Tony: Really? Don't tell Cherie. Wouldn't want to give her ideas!
Scene 3: No 11. The Brownite plotters are planning another back-bench revolt. Nick Brown and Alistair Darling are seated on small chairs. Gordon glowers over them, smirking.
Gordon: Nick, tell me, how's the new draft?
Nick: Pared down to the essentials. [Reading]: "Dear Prime Minister. In the name of God, go."
Gordon: Classy. Nice historic touch. How many signatures?
Nick: 25.
Gordon: Is that all?
Nick: But if we change it to, "Dear Control Freak. Piss off." That number goes up to 67.
Gordon: Ah, even better. Alistair, hand the letter to Tony at tomorrow's autumn briefing.
Alistair: Can't you do it?
Gordon: No way, I'll be accused of disloyalty. And I'll have to patch things up with another bloody outing to an ice-cream van.
Alistair: What's wrong with that?
Gordon: It's my turn to buy the ice creams. I'm relying on you.
Alistair: You know, Gordon, a lot of us think it's time you started to lead from the front.
He tosses the letter to Gordon.
Gordon: Right. Er, tell you what, I'll leave it peeping out from under his blotter.
Alistair: Very brave.
Scene 4: No 10. The autumn briefing in the Cabinet Office. The Brownites are at one end, the Blairites at the other. Tony strolls in beaming.
Tony: Welcome back everyone. Good holiday?
The Blairites: Wonderful, thanks. How about you?
Tony: Excellent.
The Brownites sit, arms folded, refusing to speak.
Tony: Ah. Half the cabinet has been struck dumb. Very strange. If only they had that problem when Nick Robinson called for an off-the-record briefing!
More silence.
Tony: What a grumpy lot you are. Try enjoying yourselves for a change, guys. Less plotting, more yachting. So, Chancellor, how're things at the Treasury?
Gordon: Thriving, Prime Minister.
Tony: Any news from the mutiny committee? Sorry "scrutiny" committee. Ha! My mistake.
Gordon flushes angrily.
Gordon: Er, Prime Minister, there's something peeping out from under your blotter.
Tony: Ah, yes.
Gordon [smirking]: If it's a letter of support, let's all hear it.
Tony opens the letter.
Tony [reads]: "Dear Control Freak. Piss off." Gordon, I think it's for you.
Gordon: Right, that's it.
Gordon leaps up and flings his blotter at Tony who ducks under the table. Open violence breaks out. Prezza lands a jab on Des Browne. Patricia Hewitt throws a vase of flowers at Gordon, but it misses and crashes over Ben Bradshaw. Ruth Kelly starts thrashing Alistair Darling with her rosary beads. Margaret Beckett arrives.
Beckett: F***!
The doors open and Kofi Annan strolls in at the head of a platoon of British soldiers in UN helmets.
Kofi Annan [Shouting above the chaos]: Men, your mission is to separate the warring factions and disarm them. After this, Lebanon will be a walk in the park.
