Another fine morning in the Westminster village. Tony and John wake up to discuss the problems of the day. For Tony, it's a question of the leaky roof, the wife's sex drive, and that nasty Afghanistan business, while John's wondering whether or not to treat hinself to something special from Cosmo.

(INT. BEDROOM. DAY. TONY AND JOHN ARE SAT UP IN BED. TONY HAS A COPY OF THE DAILY MAIL. JOHN HAS A COPY OF COSMOPOLITAN.)

TONY: Blast.

JOHN: What?

TONY: (Sigh) Nothing.

JOHN: (Pauses. Eyes Tony suspiciously.) Well it doesn't sound like nothing.

TONY: (Irritated.) Sorry?

JOHN: You're doing that thing again.

TONY: What thing?

JOHN: That thing you do when you're upset.

TONY: What?

JOHN: That grinding thing with your jaw.

TONY: I most certainly am not.

JOHN: Well, you've stopped now.

TONY: (Sighs and returns his attention back to his newspaper.)

JOHN: (Pauses. Watches Tony and waits.)

TONY: I'm not going to do it.

JOHN: Sorry?

TONY: (Sigh) Never mind.

Pause.

JOHN: Well, aren't you going to tell me what it is?

TONY: (Puts his paper down.) What what is?

JOHN: Something's bothering you.

TONY: I'm fine. Really.

JOHN: There! You're doing it again!

TONY: I most cert - oh. Well, you're enough to make a limpet restless.

JOHN: Thanks a lot. Only asked.

TONY: Oh, I'm sorry. (sigh)

JOHN: Well? Come on then. Spit it out.

TONY: (Long pause) It's the roof. We lost another half dozen slates yesterday. I'm sure that felt's going to go.

JOHN: Is that it?

TONY: What do you mean, is that it? I'm talking about our roof! You know? The thing over our heads that keeps the water out?

JOHN: Well what's the problem?

TONY: (Reaches under the blankets and produces a thick wad of papers.) Have you seen these estimates? (Lays them down like playing cards as he is speaking) Eight hundred and fifty quid. Seven hundred and ninety four pounds fifty. One thousand and thirty two pounds. Eight thousand pounds. Nine hundred and -

JOHN: (Interrupting) Eight Thousand?

TONY: Well I thought I'd let Multiplex have a go. (Returns to his pile of papers) Twelve hundred and seventy eight pounds -

JOHN: Hang about! Hang about! These are all way too high.

TONY: But it's a listed building, you know? We have to pay through the nose! The contractors have to be certified with English Heritage, The National Trust, London Tourist-

JOHN: (Interrupting) Rubbish. You're the Prime Bloody Minister, for crying out loud.

TONY: So what's that supposed to mean? Are you suggesting that I use my influence to get a few quid knocked off?

JOHN: Are you thick?

(They both exchange glances)

JOHN: Give me the phone.

TONY: (Sighs and passes John the phone.)

JOHN: (Folds his Cosmopolitan and dials few numbers. Pauses.) Hello, John? Sorry to bother you so early mate. How's Carine? (pause) Oh, really? Have you tried Calamine Lotion? (pause) Look I'll tell you what I'm calling you for, John. We need a bit of a favour. Can you do me a truck load of Polish roofers by ten? (pause) You can? Good.

TONY: (Buries his head in his hands.) If the press finds out, we're screwed.

JOHN: (Still speaking into the phone) Only we'll need them to come dressed as a SWAT team. (pause) Yeah. If the press finds out we're using Polish roofers they'll have a field day. But they'll never suspect anything if there's another bloody SWAT team on the roof will they? (pause) Exactly.

TONY: They'll talk. The press will find out in the end. They always do.

JOHN: Look, John. We need to make sure this stays in-house, yes? So can you make sure we get rid of them straight aways afterwards? (pause) No, no, no! Don't be daft! We can't deport 'em! No. Just send them to Glasgow or something. Somewhere the out of reach of the BBC and the Daily Mail. (pause) Nice one. Cheers mate. See you later. (he hangs up the phone and hands it back to Tony.) There you go. All sorted.

TONY: (Sigh) I'm still not convinced.

JOHN: Oh, you're welcome! (Picks up his Cosmopolitan and flicks it irritably.)

TONY: Sorry.

JOHN: Never mind.

TONY: (Picks up his own paper and starts to read.)

(They both read for a few seconds.)

TONY: (sigh)

JOHN: Now what?

TONY: Oh, nothing, it's just...

JOHN: What?

TONY: Well, it's always bloody Poles, isn't it?

JOHN: Yes. But.

TONY: I know - They're cheap.

JOHN: And there's plenty of 'em.

TONY: And they make us look like we haven't got a handle on immigration.

JOHN: It's not about bloody immigration and you know it.

TONY: Try telling that to the voters.

JOHN: Look. Why don't you just go out there and tell them how it really is? They might not like it but they'll appreciate your honesty.

TONY: (Puts down his paper again). You're joking?

JOHN: What have you got to lose?

TONY: (Rolls his eyes.) Some great legacy that would be - the man who told the great British Public that they were too bloody lazy and greedy even to compete on their own turf. No thanks I'll leave that to David.

JOHN: Well. You'll just have to put up with the nazis making hey then.

(Phone rings. Tony answers it.)

TONY: Hello? (pause.) Hello, sweetcake! (pause.) Fine. How was yours?.(pause.) Oh dear. Well, maybe tomorrow. (pause.) Sorry? You want to buy what? (pause) How little? (pause.) Well, I'm not sure everyone would call six bedrooms little, darling!

(John and Tony exchange knowing glances)

TONY: So who are you buying it with? (pause) Darling, are you sure that's wise? (long pause) I know he is, darling, but Peter's just got a knack for finding trouble. (long pause.) Well. If you're sure. Just don't go buying any more of that tea, okay? We've only just had the loo fixed.

(John turns the pages of his Cosmopolitan magazine, temporarily tilting it through ninety degrees)

TONY: I know, darling. but it was just too late to come home by the time I'd finished. (pause) John? No. He's not here. Of course not.

(John raises a single eyebrow.)

TONY: I've told you before sweetie pie. That's all in the past now. (pause) Yes darling. I love you too.(pause.) Bye, Darling. (pause.) Bye.(Tony hangs up the phone and sighs deeply.)

JOHN: She still doesn't trust you then?

TONY: I know. God it's so bloody difficult.

JOHN: I've told you what I think.

TONY: I know. I know. It's just not the right time.

JOHN: You said that last year.

TONY: You know why.

JOHN: Like I said. You know what I think.

TONY: It wouldn't be so bad if she didn't have such a rampant sex drive. She's insatiable.

JOHN: Well. There was a time when you quite liked it, if I remember rightly.

TONY: (sigh) I know.

(They both read for a few moments.)

TONY: I mean, have you seen that mouth? It's like making love to an eye level grill.

(John raises an eyebrow again, but doesn't stop reading)

TONY: And then there's the wig. God, the bloody wig. And the gown. Not to mention the bloody hammer.

JOHN: Look. I've told you. You need to get her a distraction. Something to do.

TONY: She's already got that. She's buying up properties so fast I think she must have turned into a pewter boot.

JOHN: Eh?. (Pause) No. I'm talking about a distraction in the bedroom department.

TONY: I don't know.

JOHN: It's simple. You get her a nice little stud-muffin in the house and all your bedtime problems are over. She won't even want you going near her. With or without the wig.

TONY: I know, but. There was that thing with Bono, remember? She was devastated for weeks. She went right off her lettuce.

JOHN: Yes. but he had standards, didn't he? It was doomed from the start.

TONY: So what do you suggest? Drag in some chav from the street and say "Excuse me, mi' laddo. I wonder if you couldn't see your way clear to servicing the old boiler for me?" It'd be on the front page of the News of The World faster than you could say Cecil Parkinson.

JOHN: (Puts down his magazine again) No, no. no. You're forgetting our little Polish friends. All we have to do is pop down to Port Hedland and take your pick. We can have him installed as a cleaner or a handyman before the end of the day. He'll do as he's told if the money's right. And you can keep him for less than it costs for Sky Plus.

TONY: Well, I don't know...

JOHN: It's either that or the wig.

TONY: (Sigh) Life's so bloody complicated, isn't it?

JOHN: You speak for yourself. Well am I going to book an appointment or what?

TONY: Let me think about it, okay? Hey - are you ... (He feels under the bed with his feet) You are!

JOHN: What?

TONY: You're wearing your bloody cowboy boots again!

JOHN: Well...

TONY: Oh god. I'm surrounded by fancy dress freaks. You've taken the spurs off this time, haven't you?

JOHN: Yes, yes. Honestly. I mean - It's only a pair of boots.

TONY: They've still got buffalo shit on them!

JOHN: I cleaned them!

TONY: Yes, I noticed - on the back seat of the staff car!

JOHN: Well you weren't complaining at the time!

(They both pause and back off, going back to their reading for a few moments.)

TONY: Sorry. I just wish you'd asked first.

JOHN: (Sigh) Not to worry.

TONY: What are you reading anyway?

JOHN: Eh? Oh, nothing much.

TONY: Come on. Let's see... (He leans over to look) Liposuction?

JOHN: I'm only reading it! It's very interesting.

TONY: You've filled out the application form!

JOHN: No I haven't! (pause) Well. I only put my name in.

TONY: Liposuction? You?

JOHN: No! Don't be daft!

(Tony shrugs and goes back to his paper. After a few moments, John surreptitiously lifts the covers and glances down at his waistline, frowning, deep in thought.)

TONY: This bloody Afghanistan thing's doing my head in.

JOHN: Doing your head in? How do you think the rest of the world feels?

TONY: Look at these figures here. (He tilts the paper toward John) And if the real figures made it out we'd be totally scuppered.

JOHN: Well, we obviously need more troops.

TONY: Really? God, John. I hadn't thought of that.

JOHN: There's no need to be like that. I'm only saying.

TONY: Yeah? And where are we going to get 'em from? Eh? You tell me that?

JOHN: Calm down! It's your own bloody fault in the first place.

TONY: Yeah, right! It wasn't me who flew those bloody planes.

JOHN: And it wasn't them either. Or had you forgotten?

(They both pause. Calming down again)

TONY: We had every right. (sigh) At least it felt like it at the time.

JOHN: Feels like such a long time ago now.

TONY: A lifetime. (pause) God we were so bloody cock sure of ourselves, weren't we?

JOHN: It felt like we were going to be doing it forever. Looking back now, it's like looking at somebody else. Who were we? really, I mean?

TONY: We were just swept along by it. Always so many things to do. Never enough time to take stock. (pause) Not like now.

JOHN: Now the party's all but over, and we're putting the towels on the pumps.

TONY: That's very poetic. For you.

JOHN: I'll take that as a complimentary. (pause) Why did we say we were doing Afghanistan, again? Was in WMD?

TONY: No. That was the other lot.

JOHN: North Korea?

TONY: Don't be daft, John. North Korea have WMD. We'd have been annihilated.

JOHN: Oh, that's right. I remember now. It was beheadings at football matches, wasn't it? And didn't they blow up some statues?

TONY: That's the one.

JOHN: And the gas pipeline, of course..

TONY: Shhh! (turns harshly) Don't mention that! Even in here!

JOHN: Ah.

(a long pause)

TONY: You know what bothers me?

JOHN: Buffalo shit on your valence.

TONY: Besides that.

JOHN: What?

TONY: All the bloody "I told you so" text messages from Vladimir.

JOHN: Oh, let him have his fun.

TONY: Come off it. We spent decades laughing our bollocks off at them trying to keep a lid on the Afghans, and what does that bloody idiot do? He sets off on a crusade after the bloody Taliban.

JOHN: Vladimir?

TONY: No. The mid-term cowboy.

JOHN: Well. We did say "shoulder to shoulder."

TONY: I said "Till death us do part" a well. But I don't hear you reminding me of that very often.

JOHN: Shall I fetch you a saucer of milk?

TONY: (sigh) I just can't stand to think of them gloating at the Kremlin. I mean, we funded the bloody Taliban in the first place. It was all fine and dandy while they were fighting the reds. We even had them in bloody Sandhurst, for God's sake.

JOHN: Come off it. We train half the bloody world. And if we're not training them we're supplying them. If you're going to do deals with despots murderers and tyrants every day, sooner or later you're going to have to tangle with someone who's got a platinum loyalty card.

TONY: But sooner or later, we're going to have to go to Vladmir and ask him to commit troops. We're going to have to eat our hats and beg him to send ground forces back into that miserable little shit hole because we're not capable of cleaning up our own mess.

JOHN: And when we do?

TONY: He's going to laugh his cock off.

(They both go back to their reading. This time the silence lasts almost a minute, until John puts his magazine down.)

JOHN: Tony?

TONY: Yes?

JOHN: I've had a bit of an idea.

TONY: Happy Birthday.

JOHN: No, really. This Afghanistan thing. We need men, right?

TONY: Yes?

JOHN: Lots of them?

TONY: Yes?

JOHN: I mean lots of them. and, above all, you need them cheap?

TONY: Absolutely. Why?

JOHN: Give me the phone, darling. I've got a great idea...

THE END

Related:

• BBC NEWS - Poland to boost NATO Afghan force