The Presidency on a cold November Monday morning.

"So, moving onto number 13 on the agenda today, Your Excellency, I am afraid to say that we have rather a sticky financial crisis on the doorstep."

"Crisis?!? What crisis, attache?"

"The credit for your new presidential plane has just been refused point blank, sir."

"Ok quick, let's try a bigger bank. Give me the hotline. What's the name of the manager there again? Bach? Mozart? No? Strauss who??"

Two minutes later.

"Ah, hello Dominique, Georgi here. Just a quickie. Yes a quickie. Nagy? No! G.e.o.r.g.i. Middle of the night? Oh sorry, mon ami, but it's rather urgent. I need a small IMF loan. Going Hungary? Certainly not! No shortages here, just had breakfast actually. It's merely about a flash new jet I want to... What's that? Catastrophic bad timing? How come?!? Hello Dominique are you still there...???"

The line to Washington goes dead.

"Left dangling yet again, sir? Financial parachute refused?"

"Yes, that does it! We'll just have to use the old 154 once more. Is it fixed yet?"

Silence.

"Well man?"

"Umm, you'd better take a look at this, sir."

The attache turns on the presidential TV.

"And why, exactly, are we watching this programme Terrifying Mysteries of the Deep, attache??"

"Err, you see the plane wreckage immediately behind that giant turtle on the far left of the screen, sir? Yes, just past that menacing octopus. Recognise the upholstery...?"

"What?!? It can't be!!... Air Farce One?!?"

"Afraid so, sir. Submerged as an artificial reef in an underwater park off Varna."

"Well, just get my damn tin ostrich back again!"

"No can do, Your Excellency. The sharks."

"Businesspeople who own the park?"

"Oh no, sir, the fish. They might eat one of the divers sent to rescue the plane. The elections?"

"Hmm, tricky one. What a terrible fate for the old warhorse, though!"

"Maybe, but it has given the cabinet a fantastic idea, sir."

"What on earth are you getting at?"

"That you travel by sea from now on, Your Excellency."

The attache quickly unfurls a massive blueprint of something nautical.

"Saddam's yacht?! Are you insane?"

"No sir, apparently the Iraqi government is having difficulties selling the monster, so we might be able to cut a deal to rent it on the cheap."

"Yes, I appreciate that, but I can't be seen cruising around in the darn thing, can I?"

"It does have some advantages, sir."

"Really?"

"Indeed, Your Excellency, look. For one, it has a secret tunnel running the length of the ship. This will allow you to escape any ferocious European Union finance boys should negotiations get out of hand once too often, and, what's more, there are so many solid gold fittings aboard that on its maiden voyage the tub may well even just..."

"Sink?"

"Knowing your jinx, fingers crossed, yes sir! And take the EU finance team to the depths of the Black Sea with it. The media, too."

"Genius! Fine artificial reefs they will all make! Here, have another medal! Second Class only, though, mustn't tempt fate."