At an Old Boys' Dinner, and, after toasts had been drunk, the conversation turned, as it invariably does, to what makes a great fag.

“Looks," said Wentworth-Stanley. "Obviously."

“Biddability allied to a certain pouty availability," said Kenyon-Slaney, who has always been rather louche, even for my tastes.

“Bottom," said Manners.

Not for the first time the man who would be Duke of Rutland was bang on the money. Forget the superficialities, what one really requires in a fag is steadfastness. You and he are in it for the long term: one of you needs to be a rock. All of which brings me to Friend Clegg.

From the off, many of us suspected that "Nicky" might make a flighty fag. However, we kept our counsel, waiting for this self-evident truth to dawn
on the Dear Leader. Dave can take his time but even he needed less than a month to reach the inevitable conclusion.

“Look, Gid, I've got a country to run, a Budget to oversee, a World Cup to pretend to watch, and Sambo keeps screaming that she's so bored. What I haven't got is time to hold Clegg's clammy hand. Can you deal?"

And I dealt. The hardest bit, as it so often is with fags, was finding the blighter. They seek him here, they seek him there, those Frenchies seek him everywhere . . . that damned elusive Deputy Prime Minister. In the event, he was neither in heaven nor in hell, but skulking away in a tiny room at the back of the Commons, very much yesterday's man. Even as unforgettable a figure as Prescott struggled to remain in the memory as deputy PM, and Clegg has none of the Big Man's pugnacity.

Genetically polite, I venture to ask him what might be wrong.

“The Tory press hate me, the Liberal press hate me, the Labour press . . ."

“Really hate you."

“I tried to act responsibly, help the country out of a hole, follow my head not my heart, and yet I find myself . . ."

“As popular as Wallis Simpson. It must be exceptionally trying."

“And so lonely. David has gone, they're after Chris, and who's next?"

“Ermm . . . that . . . erm . . . other bloke, maybe. Or is it a bird?"

“And I'm all alone."

“Look, old chap, it's all new and difficult, and must be very frightening and all that, but we have to keep plugging on. So how about a nice lunch and you can talk about your problems, and I can tell you exactly what to say about Osborne's Budget? Chin up.