Scene 1: Tony’s office. Prince Harry enters.
Tony: Morning, sir.
Harry: Yo, Blair! Call me Harry.
Tony: OK, Harry. Now we need to talk about a very important matter.
Harry: Champagne? Excellent!
Tony: Actually we haven't restocked since Freddie Flintoff's last visit. There's whisky, but it's only half past ten.
Harry: That late! I'm gasping.
Tony pours a whisky and offers the glass to Harry. Harry takes the bottle.
Tony: There's bad news on Iraq, I'm afraid. We can't risk you on the front line. You're being assigned to a desk job in Basra.
Harry: No way! I'm going on patrol with my men.
Tony: Too dangerous.
Harry: Oh, great. Why the hell do you think I went to Sandhurst?
Tony: The subsidised bar?
Harry: To fight for my country.
Tony: And you will be fighting, Harry. But with paper clips instead of a tank.
Harry: Paper clips . . .
Tony: It's vital work. You'll be scheduling power cuts. Building new graveyards. Compensating Iraqis beaten up by rogue elements within the army . . .
Harry: Sod you, mate. I'm going to war.
Tony: Out of the question. The Iranians will be searching for you high and low. God knows what will happen if they pick you up.
Harry [swigging freely]: I'll escape. Just watch me.
Tony: Harry, you can barely get out of a nightclub in Soho, let alone a military prison in Iran. They could even hang you as a spy.
Harry: Come on. How could I be a spy? I'm world-famous.
Tony: Mmm, good point. And they'd have to prove you can see straight, which wouldn't be easy.
Harry: They wouldn't hang a member of the royal family. We'd flatten them with nukes.
Tony: Lovely thought, yes, but I'll let you in on a little secret. Our nukes don't work.
Harry: What?
Tony: At least we can't be sure. We've never used them. So if you're arrested out there, you're on your own.
Harry: I'll take the risk. What's the worst that can happen? Couple of weeks in jail and I'll be a hero. Soon as I'm out, I can hit Tehran, take in a few clubs. I've heard it's pretty cosmopolitan nowadays.
Tony: Yeah. Apart from the alcohol ban.
Harry: The what?
Tony: The whole country's dry.
Harry: Oh, there's always a little watering hole tucked away somewhere.
Tony: Not in Iran. You can't even get a shandy.
Beat.
Harry: About this desk job . . .
Scene 2: Gordon's office. An hour later. Full of whisky and Dutch courage, Harry has changed his mind about the desk job.
Harry: Hey, man! How's things?
Gordon: All right -
Harry: Can I just say. No need for all the "sir" crap, OK. Just call me Harry.
Gordon: I wasn't thinking of calling you anything else.
Harry: Great. Now I need you to help me. Blair says if I go on patrol in Iraq I may end up getting hanged by the Iranians.
Gordon: And the problem is?
Harry: Well, no one wants a member of the royal family hanged, obviously.
Gordon: What strange circles you move in. How do you want me to help?
Harry: Is there any chance you can overrule him?
Gordon: Who do you think's been running domestic policy for the last ten years? It's fine. You go ahead and join your men.
Harry: Really?
Gordon: Of course, heh heh. I'm delighted to see members of the royal family throwing themselves into the line of fine. It fills my heart with joy.
Harry: Thanks, man.
Gordon: And keep your helmet on. That hair'll be an easy target for snipers.
Harry: Sure thing. Hey. Can I get you something?
Gordon: What?
Harry: In return. Something from Grandma. Order of Merit? Companion of Honour? Knight of the Garter?
Gordon: Get out, you little prat.
Scene 3: Downing Street. Three hours later. Harry has been out celebrating. He comes swaying up to Tony, who stands at a podium addressing the world's press.
Tony: . . . and here he is. Britain's very own hero.
Harry [wobbling badly]: Hello. Hic!
Tony: Harry represents all that is best about our armed forces. Bravery, professionalism, dedication and er . . . Good, Harry, steady yourself against the podium. That's it. Earlier I tried to persuade Harry to accept a desk job but Gordon - I mean Harry wouldn't hear of it.
Journalist: Harry! How do you feel about going to Iraq?
Harry [recognising a paparazzo]: Eh? It's you, isn't it? With the camera!
Tony: Er, never mind, Harry. The important thing is that you're joining our armed forces as they continue . . .
Harry: Come here. I haven't finished with you, mate!
Harry launches at the cameraman. Fists fly. Other paparazzi join in. A huge ruck starts in front of Tony.
Tony: . . . as they spread peace and stability and try to end the tragic violence that has disrupted civilian life in . . . Right, that's it. Thank you, gentlemen.
He disappears into No 10 as the brawl rages out of control.
