We high-five and then he shakes my hand. We stare at each other meaningfully for a second, and then I remember he's seen me in my pants, and I pretend to be distracted by a fly.

But I am proud of myself.

I hand Gary my credit card to pay for the session, but he fumbles it and it drops to the floor. I reach down to pick it up.

'Well done, mate,' he says. 'Well done.'

He sticks the card in the Chip and Pin machine and I start to feel uneasy. We wait in silence for a second and I think about what he's just said. I wonder just how well I managed to pick that up. Was it really worth a well done?

'Just your Pin number, please,' he says, and I tap it in.

He stares at the screen. I stare at him. The payment goes through.

'Well done,' he says.

On the way home, I buy a Big Mac.

THE INVITATION

The mail has arrived and I stare at it, bleary-eyed and tea-stained. Something from British Gas, I think. Maybe an invitation to a party, or a letter telling me they like me.

I ignore it, and flick to the next one.

Something from the council, I think. Maybe an invitation to a party, or a letter telling me they like me.

I flick to the next.

And I stare at it.

Because there is something very odd about this letter.

I turn and scuttle upstairs to find my wife.

'Hey!' I say. 'I've got a letter!'

'That's nice,' she says, also bleary-eyed. 'Who's it from?'

I turn the envelope around and she stares at it.

'What does it say?' she demands.

'I don't know!' I say. 'I haven't opened it!'

'Open it!'

I pause, and look again at the address printed along the back.

It says 10 Downing Street.

'What do they want?' I say, panicked. 'What have I done?'

I think back to the week before, when I'd waved at a speed camera in a cheeky manner. I hadn't been speeding at the time, but what if there was a law against waving at a speed camera in a cheeky manner? What if somehow Gordon Brown had found out about my cheeky wave? What if this was his particular bugbear? What if he'd only ever been voted in as an MP in the first place thanks to his no-nonsense stance on people who wave at speed cameras in cheeky manners?

'Open it!' demands my wife, again. And so I frown, and take a deep breath, and I do.

Ten seconds later, I stare at her gravely.

'I have been chosen!' I say.

'For what?'

'For ... a task force!'