Now this is the deal ... @ No 10

The wailing lad, Clegg, arrived on the doorstep in time for a coffee with Boy David. He arrived via the back door. All very hush hush. I wouldn't have recognised him - excepting I smelled that Spanish aftershave he wears! No one else here uses it! So, I knew he was around even before I heard him. The rumour is that his wife, Miriam, insists he wears it to remind her of home.

I slunk into the large sitting-room and sat behind the settee. A silver tray bearing two cups of coffee and a plate of macaroons arrived. The cream for their coffee looked very inviting. I found myself dribbling and had to wash my whiskers.  Anticipation is everything, they say!

"I think it's working, Clegg,"   Boy David sounded quite cheerful.

"I should say so, David.  I think it's working a real treat!"

What was working, I wondered.   They certainly didn't seem to be straining themselves.  I could see no actual work being done.

"How long do we have to keep it up?"  Wailing lad, Clegg, asked.  "I'm not sure I can go on pretending to loathe you and detest George, not for much longer any rate.  Quarrels, even pretend ones, always get me down."

"Well, Clegg, that supporter of yours - you know the woman in the pub on the BBC news the other night - she said we had to appear have our differences."

"Actually, David, she said I should voice my differences with you!"

"Well, you have, haven't you? You disagree about the AV vote -  in fact, we couldn't be more apart!"

Boy David sipped his coffee, little finger slightly extended away from the handle of the mug - the true mark of a gentleman, as Arturo told me.  Clegg, on the other hand was clasping his mug in a rather desperate manner, I thought.

"I think we're going to win, you know." Clegg said.

Boy David nearly choked on his coffee. "What do you mean 'we're going to win'?  ,Either I win, more likely,  and you lose - or - you win, very unlikely,  and I lose.   We cannot both win."

"Ahh, David, you may be right but I seem to recall a saying, 'Even when you lose, you win!'"

"Wrong again, Clegg.  It's the infamous pathological gambler who said, 'Even when you win, you lose.'"

Wailing lad looked positively happy when he heard that.  "Great, David, so we'll both come out winners."

After Clegg had left, I saw Boy David scratching his head in puzzlement. Someone really must tell Samantha to get him to stop this bad habit. The small bald patch on the back of his head won't get any smaller, if he keeps doing that!   Every time Clegg comes here, Boy David seems more and more flumoxed!   How far can this go, I ask myself?