"We're not going to hang about here like a couple of klutzes, Quentin, so a strategic withdrawal would be in order, I think," muttered Sir Wilfred, steering his young assistant towards the doors leading into the back garden, "does your partner have a car? ring him, ask him to be in Horse Guards in about fifteen minutes," which Quentin passed on and told his boss that it was sorted, after which it was just a few words to the security guard at the back door, a stroll round the back garden, some more chat with the police at the back gate, and then an easy amble towards a waiting car; which was when the voice, so familiar to habitués of Downing Street and television news rang out: "anything to say about Brexit Means Wrexit, Sir Wilfred? is that the PM's new slogan, Sir Wilfred?" the Invisible Man whose questions dominated the comings and goings of politicians and civil servants, and then became headlines. no matter that there was rarely any reply to them: "fard your fizzog, Quentin, paint on your brightest smile," and Sir Wilfred turned, expecting to be faced with a battery of TV cameras, but instead he saw Quentin embracing the Invisible Man, whom he promptly introduced: "Sir Wilfred, this is my husband, Dan McGann," and the man, now known to Sir Wilfred as Dan McGann, extended his hand which the Cabinet Secretary could not avoid, and as they shook the other repeated the introduction: "yes, good to meet you at last, Sir Wilfred, I'm Dan McGann, the Headline Man! full-time with The Sun but I let any other paper use my lines for a modest price, oh, Quentin knows I'm a Hack, a Harlot, prostituting my talent but hey, we all gotta live; and the motor's here, Sir Wilf, is that okay, I feel we're family already, I understand you're gonna lay low at our gaff for a few days, nice little spare room with a cute little lunette, if you stand on a chair you'll get a great view of Battersea Power Station, but hey, I'm talking to a pro, must needs be a lowrie in your job Sir Wilf, I guess it takes all a fox's cunning to hang onto it with all this talk of defeats and Bunker mentality, but she held on tonight, so The Dame lives to lose another day, any comments, off the record of course, now we're family I never betray a confidence, hop in and we'll be there before you can say Jake Spotted-Dogg, now he's the real Enemy Within, ain't he? Boris the Doris is a has been, The Man Who Never Quite Was, you might say – or I might ask you and that'd give us 'Sir Wilf Doesn't Deny' etcetera, but I'm only joshing, old son, now, Belt Up In The Back, if the rozzers stop us and you ain't belted up, I ain't paying your fifty squid; shall we pick up a takeaway? what's your fancy Wilf?" and he didn't stop talking for the entire drive, even when they popped into a Mexican for Fajitas and Tacos and next door to an Off-Licence for a few bottles to wash it down with, and by the time he got into the spare room, alonbe, and lay down on the bed Sir Wilfred Heath-Robinson, probably ex-Cabinet Secretary, was so exhausted that he fell asleep at once and never dreamt of The Dame for the first night since she'd become Party Leader and Prime Minister!