A presidency awaits

Tony finds his real roots, Cherie finds his passport, while the perfect couple give Arnie the presen

Scene One: Downing Street. Cherie is doing the packing.

Cherie: Pilates mat. Star chart. Bucket and spade. Extra-large Hawaiian shirt to hide Tony's beer gut. My passport, Tony's passp . . . Hey Tony, someone's been fiddling with your passport.

Tony: Me, actually. Found an error here. "Place of Birth, Edinburgh, UK."

Cherie: But you were born in Edinburgh.

Tony: Edinboro, Pennsylvania. Little township settled by Presbyterians in the 1600s. My parents were, ahem, on holiday there in 1953. So I've corrected it. We can't let a clerical error get between the American people and the best president they'll ever have.

Cherie: Oh Tony! You're going to stand!

Tony: Yup. Look at the opposition - John McCain and Hillary Clinton. A bald pensioner and a mad lesbian. Piece of piss.

Cherie: But what party are you going to join?

Tony: Party schmarty . . . I never understood what that word meant.

Cherie: Oh Tony, I can't wait. Imagine us in the White House. What's the first thing you'll do?

Tony: Invite Gordon over and keep him waiting in a corridor.

Scene Two: Prestwick Airport. Tony has stopped off to check that the mullah-busting bombs are getting through OK. He walks to a hangar to speak to airport workers and party activists. Two pensioners and a sheepdog have turned up. An aide shows Tony to the podium. Tony taps the mike.

Tony: Hello. One, two. One, two . . . Er, that was a soundcheck, by the way, not a headcount.

Stony silence.

Tony: That was a joke. Lovely to be here. I haven't addressed a crowd this small since I last spoke to the Blairite loyalists in Westminster.

Stony silence.

Tony: Right. So you're playing hard to get. I know you're out there. I can hear you snoring - as IDS used to say at the Tory party conference.

[Beat] Oh, sod this. There are no cameras here, you miserable nobodies, I hope you freeze to death this winter.

The aide rushes up.

Aide [whispers]: There's a live feed to Radio Grampian.

Tony: . is there? Er, right. "You miserable nobodies. I hope you freeze to death this winter" - a sentiment we remember from the bad old Thatcher years. Under new Labour, pensioners have enjoyed the winter fuel allowance, faster hip replacement operations and free TV licences for anyone older than John Prescott. Any questions?

Pensioner: What about a ceasefire?

Tony: Er, yes, Gordon and I promise to patch things up at the party conference.

Pensioner: In Lebanon.

Tony: Well, everyone in the EU is working on this around the clock. Apart from President Chirac who's working on it five hours a day, Monday to Wednesday, with a two-hour lunch break, not including national holidays and general strikes.

Pensioner: You should do more!

Tony: Yes, well, we've urged the UN to send extra medical supplies to Lebanon and we're asking the Israelis to refine their targeting systems. In other words, more aspirin and more accuracy. It's the best we can hope for. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to California.

Scene 3: California. The Terminator's official residence. Enter Tony and Cherie.

Arnie: At last, I meet George Bush's second-biggest fan. Ha ha!

Tony: Hi, Arnie. Meet Cherie.

Arnie: Hey Big Lips. Do I get a kiss?

Cherie: All right.

He plants a smacker on her cheek and gropes her bum. She squirms free.

Cherie: Get off.

Tony: Er, great. Arnie, this is such a privilege. Leo's a massive fan and Cherie loves the Terminator films.

Cherie: No, I don't. They're violent, sexist, white-male, authoritarian . . .

Tony stamps on her foot.

Cherie: Ow!

Tony: Sorry, darling.

Arnie: OK, Tony. I hear the lady. Violent, sexist, white male, authoritarian. That's me. Want me to sign your bra?

Cherie: No thanks. I'm going out shopping.

Cherie exits.

Tony: So, how's your bid for the presidency?

Arnie: Verboten - cos I'm a lousy immigrant.

Tony: Ah, well, a constitution is your servant not your master.

Arnie: Ja, very true, Tony. Who said this? Hitler?

Tony: No, I did. Anyway, I think we can help each other out. Cherie and I are moving here next year to clean up on the after-dinner bullshit circuit. And I'm standing for president in 2008.

Arnie: But you're a lousy immigrant, too.

Tony: I'm an American, actually.

Arnie: How come?

Tony: Right place at the right time. Story of my life. When I'm elected, I'll force an amendment through Congress permitting Austrians to stand for president. OK?

Arnie: And what do I do?

Tony: Deliver California.

Arnie: No problemo, Tony. And I'll take over in 2012. Deal?

Tony: No, I'm not standing down after . of course you can take over.

They shake.

Tony: In England, we call this a "Granita".

Arnie: OK. It's a Granita.

Tony: Now, let's go and tell the press that we were discussing global warming.

Arnie: Global warming. That bullshit.