“Dave, darling,” said Sam whilst they were relaxing on the sofa looking at holiday brochures.
“Yes, my sweet,” he replied without looking up from “Sunshine Tours Of North Africa.”
‘Well, Dave, I was just thinking. You know how this business in Libya has all started to go wrong? I saw a picture in a magazine of this Pro-Gaddafi supporter wearing a green scarf and he looked very determined and it made me think that you might not win this one.”
“I suppose so, sweetest, but who knows what will happen there.”
“I had an idea, that’s all. It’s probably silly.”
“Nonsense Sam, you are the cleverest person I know.”
“Awww, thanks Dave. Well, what about this? You know how we have sent all those expensive planes and missiles and things to try and beat Mr Gaddafi and how it just doesn’t seem to be getting anywhere and now everyone in Britain thinks it was a mistake?”
“Well get to the point, my love.”
“OK. I was looking at the pictures in the papers with that Muslim woman being arrested in Paris for wearing a scarf and I just wondered if we couldn’t use that as a clever way of getting rid of Gaddafi. You know how you and Mr Sarkozy have been left all on your own over Libya, well, why not have a word with him about my idea.”
“Ah cherie, mon amour, I have to drag myself away from your caresses. Ah ma Carla, if only I could lie around here with you all day but I have a war to run,” said Nicolas Sarkozy reluctantly sliding his hand from Carla’s thigh.
“You know, Monsieur Cameron, I underestimated you, mon ami. This could get us all of zee ‘ook and get all that egg off our visages. I am a bit tied up here at the moment but later I shall try smuggling myself into Tripoli with an offer le Colonel cannot refuse. Give my love to your ravishing wife Samantha.”
“I will. Sometimes, I don’t know what I would do without her. What was that? I thought I heard something.”
“Oh nothing, Prime Minister,” Nicolas kisses Carla behind the ear. “Just a little unfinished business here at the palace.”