Cherie produces a gurgling surprise, Tony tries a spot of peacemaking, while Gordon and Sarah go all Saudi, only for the men in uniform to have the last laugh

Scene 1: The Blairs' flat. Tony reads his mail while Cherie browses her favourite website "Orphans4U.com".

Cherie: Please Tony.

Tony: Forget it.

Cherie: Listen. [Reads]: "No home is complete without a distressed cutie from sub-Saharan Africa. It's up to you. Choose the sex, the age, the weight. And even the shade!"

Tony: We can't. All that aggro.

Cherie: But there's a brilliant organisation called AdoptATot. They do "fly-n-buy" deals on the internet. You choose with a couple of clicks, the paperwork's done and he's all parcelled up and waiting for you at the airport. Please!

Tony: No way.

Cherie: But I've found one. He's sooo lurrrvly. Big chubby cheeks. HIV negative. And no surviving relatives to ask awkward questions.

Tony: We've got more urgent problems. The Met wants to interview me under caution.

Cherie: Oh God.

Tony: Next Wednesday at 5. They're coming to Downing Street. Christ! I'll be finished.

Cherie: Time to call an emergency Middle-East peace conference.

Scene 2: Foreign Office. The room is packed with statesmen and diplomats. Tony dings a spoon against his glass. Silence falls.

Tony: Thank you all for coming at such short notice. I'm delighted to see that everyone with influence in the region has turned up. And, Condoleezza, great to see you, too.

Loud laughter. Rice storms out.

Tony: Help yourselves to soft drinks and canapés.

Tony mingles. He is quickly buttonholed by a woman in a full burqa.

Woman: Prime Minister, I am Saira Mahmood Hussein, second secretary to His Excellency the Ambassador of Iran.

Tony: Hi, call me Tony.

Saira: Hi, Tony. Very nice place.

Tony: Yeah, how come you speak perfect English?

Saira: Er, we have excellent schools since the wicked Shah was ousted.

Tony: Good for you. Now, look, this uranium enrichment programme of yours. Any chance of knocking it on the head? It's causing headaches in Jerusalem.

Saira: We know. That's the idea.

Tony: But they've got nukes too, remember. An atomic war would be very bad for your economy. House prices would plummet. You'd have terrible problems exporting radioactive carpets. Think of the effect on tourism. Coach parties don't like wearing lead-lined suits. It's a big turn-off.

Saira: We understand that. And we don't want war.

Tony: Great. Nor do we. Nor does anyone. Hey, I feel a "hand of history" moment looming.

Saira: But if you're committed to peace - why call us evil?

Tony: Oh that. Sorry. Total misunderstanding. George was talking about a heavy metal band, the Axes of Evil. Slip of the tongue. Happens all the time. I mean, poor old George, when he starts a sentence, it's like a blind man taking the controls of a helicopter. No one knows where it'll end up.

The Saudi Ambassador waddles over. He's an enormous man swathed in flowing white robes. He bites his nails through his beard.

Tony: Hello. I'm Tony.

Ambassador: Hello, er, Meester Bleyir. Gewd luck with yirr piss initiateev.

Tony peers at him carefully.

Tony: Thanks. What's your name, by the way?

Ambassador: I'm um, Meester er, er, Heez Excellency Abu Dabi Ibn Saud, er Shatt al Arab.

Tony: Can I get you a whisky, your Excellency?

Ambassador: Glenfiddich. On the rocks.

Tony: Gordon!

He pulls off the beard.

Gordon: Shit.

Tony: What are you doing dressed like - ?

Gordon: Sarah - quick.

"Saira" produces a bust of Curzon from under her burqa and whacks Tony over the head with it.

Gordon: Nice work. Just in time.

They bundle Tony into an alcove. Moments later he is being dragged unconscious towards Downing Street.

Scene 3: No 10. Tony is lying on the welcome mat just inside the front door. He wakes up. There is a loud knock. Without thinking, Tony opens the door. It's Cherie.

Cherie: Surpri-ise!

Tony: Oh God.

She thrusts a beautiful black baby into his arms.

Cherie: Just collected him from the airport. I decided to call him Nelson but then I found out he's a girl. So I called him Boadicea.

Another knock at the door.

Tony: Don't open it!

The door is shoved open. A uniformed officer walks in.

Tony: I can explain. It was all Peter Mandelson's fault!

Officer: What? I'm from the Child Protection Unit. We're investigating illegal adoptions from Africa.

Tony [thinking fast]: Er, right, yes. So are we. Aren't we darling?

Cherie: Sorry?

Tony: We just went through the process of adopting this lovely baby, to highlight the inadequacies of current laws. Congratulations on all your hard work.

Officer: I don't believe a word of it.

Tony: Er, would an OBE help?

More knocking. Enter a senior detective from the Met.

Detective: I heard that. Mr Blair, you're under arrest.

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