Inside, I am sitting next to Bill Bryson and trying to make myself look more intelligent than I am. I touch the side of my glasses from time to time, just so everyone can see I'm wearing glasses, and so will assume I am probably a great thinker. Around me, people are talking passionately about science and its place in our country. Jimmy from Jimmy's Farm raises some good points, and Charlie Boorman insists it should all start in the classroom. Tim Lovejoy remains tight-lipped, possibly wondering how to turn the conversation round to football. I am still waiting for someone to reveal the real reason we are all gathered here - the island full of dinosaurs or the alien crash site - but everyone seems fine just discussing science. Maybe it wasn't a cover after all.

And then, suddenly, it is my turn to speak. All eyes turn to me. And I begin to talk. And talk. And I end up talking about a drunk Brazilian man I met in an East London bar the previous Saturday at 2am.

There is a pause.

The conversation moves on.

I write a note on my special Downing Street notepaper and pass it to Bryson.

'I sounded like a nitwit,' it says, 'but I think I got away with it.'

He chuckles, and writes a reply.

'I am a nitwit, and I always get away with it,' it says.

I chuckle back and we both stare at the words.

And then Bill scribbles it out, perhaps realising that wouldn't be the best thing to leave on a table if Gordon decided to suddenly check our notes.

I leave Number 10 and stand on a near-deserted Downing Street. A friendly policeman offers to take a picture for me. So I switch on my phone and set it to 'camera', and while he's finding the right shot, I think about my morning.

Not too bad, I consider. I did not embarrass myself. Apart from the coffee incident, and the story about the drunk Brazilian.

'Ready?' says the policeman, but then the phone makes a ding-ding noise.

A text.

'Oh,' says the policeman, looking concerned. 'What's this?'

I look at the screen. It's a reply from my wife. It says, 'Tell Gordon he stinks!'

I consider explaining, but just have my photo taken and leave.

THE BISHOP

I am surfing the internet late at night when I stumble across an unkind comment someone has made about a friend of mine. The friend in question is a broadcaster, but I know him as a kind and generous man, who is funny, and enthusiastic, and warm.

I am startled by the comment, which implies he is silly and lightweight and not worthy of his status as a celebrated breakfast broadcaster and social commentator.