For such a prestigious day, our arrival at Downing Street was greeted with surprisingly little pomp and ceremony. There were a few raised eyebrows from the local constabulary who clearly thought they had seen the last of me and my DUKW when they forced me to retreat from Eel Pie Island. But I was confident that everything was going to be okay, particularly as I had managed to get the British army on side. In the world of nation-building, might makes right, but maybe I had a little too much might on my side as Tony didn't even seem to want to answer the door. It was only later that I discovered Tony actually lives at Number 11 Downing Street - Gordon lives at Number 10. On the basis of current thinking though this might actually prove to be a diplomatic masterstroke!
So that was it. Job done. I returned home and waited for Tony to call...I'm still waiting so presumably everything is okay.