Blair, Tony Blair.

INT. OFFICE

VLADIMIR PUTIN IS SITTING BEHIND HIS BESK STROKING A WHITE CAT LIKE A BOND VILLAIN.

AMONG THE OBJECTS ON THE DESK THERE IS A TALL LAMP AND A LAPTOP.

THE DOOR OPENS AND TWO GUARDS ENTER WHEELING TONY BLAIR IN. TONY IS SITTING ON AN OFFICE CHAIR WITH HIS HANDS CUFFED BEHIND HIS BACK.

PUTIN:
Ah Mr Blair, so good of you to join us.

BLAIR:
Putin! I might have known you'd be behind this! What have you done with John you bastard!

THE TWO GUARDS EXIT.

PUTIN:
Mr Prescott is alive and vell - alzough it iz not for lack of trying. Ze man ate a trawler full of polonium enriched sushi and suffered little more zan an attack of ze runs, vich unfortunately killed von of my operatives who vas hiding in ze next cubicle.

PUTIN TURNS THE LAPTOP SCREEN TOWARDS BLAIR.

ON THE SCREEN IS A PICTURE OF A DEAD SPY SITTING IN A TOILET CUBICLE, HIS SKIN IS PALE GREEN, HIS FACE CONTORTED IN A LOOK OF ABSOLUTE DISGUST.

BLAIR:
Where is he? Where's John now?!

PUTIN:
As I say Mr Blair, he is safe... for now. He is chained to a radiator in ze basement of zis building. But maybe it is your own velfare you should be concerned vith.

BLAIR:
You won't get away with this Putin - they'll come looking for me!

PUTIN:
Perhaps, but ven they find you - it vill be too late. You vill be dead.

PUTIN GENTLY PUTS THE CAT DOWN ON THE FLOOR.

BLAIR:
You expect me to talk?

PUTIN:
No Mr Blair...

PUTIN PULLS OUT A GUN.

PUTIN: (CONTINUED)
... I expect you to die.

TONY SUDDENLY PULLS HIS HANDS FROM BEHIND HIS BACK, THE OPEN HANDCUFFS SWINGING FROM ONE WRIST AS HE GRABS FOR THE TABLE-LAMP.

PUTIN FIRES BUT MISSES AS TONY SWINGS THE LAMP AND KNOCKS THE GUN FROM PUTINS HAND.

PUTIN PUSHES HIS CHAIR BACK AGAINST THE WALL IN TERROR.

PUTIN: (SHOUTING)
Guards! Guards!

TONY REACHES INTO HIS INSIDE POCKET AND PULLS OUT WHAT LOOKS TO BE A TUBE OF TOOTHPASTE.

THE GUARDS BURST IN AS TONY SQUIRTS THE CONTENTS OF THE TUBE OVER PUTINS CHEST.

PUTIN SCREAMS IN HORROR, SCARED TO TOUCH THE THICK GUNK ON HIS CHEST.

THE GUARDS GRAB TONY BY THE ARMS, RESTRAINING HIM.

PUTIN CALMS A LITTLE, THEN POINTS TO HIS CHEST.

PUTIN:
Vat is dis? Is it poison? am I to die?!

BLAIR:
Not quite Putin - It's concentrated pork pie... with extra pork!

PUTIN SNIFFS HIS CHEST AND FROWNS AT BLAIR.

PUTIN:
I don't understand. Vat does dis...

THE ROOM SHAKES WITH THE SOUND OF A NEARBY THUD.

AS PUTIN AND THE GUARDS LOOK AROUND IN FEAR AND CONFUSION, A SECOND LOUDER THUD SHAKES THE ROOM.

PUTIN:
Vat is going on?!

ANOTHER GROUND-SHAKING THUD, MUCH CLOSER.

BLAIR: (CALMLY)
Looks like lunch... is on YOU.

SUDDENLY THE WALL EXLODES INWARD SCATTERING THE ROOM WITH RUBBLE AS JOHN PRESCOTT BURSTS IN WEARING ONLY HIS Y-FRONTS , A BROKEN RADIATOR DANGLING FROM A CHAIN ON HIS LEFT WRIST.

IN THE CONFUSION, TONY KARATE-ATTACKS THE GUARDS KNOCKING THEM BOTH UNCONSCIOUS.

PRESCOTT SURVEYS THE ROOM, SNIFFING THE AIR.

PRESCOTT:
Who's got all the pies?!

TONY POINTS TO PUTIN, WHO IS STARING AT JOHN IN HORROR.

PUTIN:
No... god please - no!

PRESCOTT ADVANCES ON A TERRIFIED PUTIN, SNIFFING THE AIR AND LICKING HIS LIPS.

BLAIR:
Bon apetite Mr Putin.

BLAIR EXITS, CALMY BRUSHING THE DUST FROM HIS JACKET.

FADE TO BLACK.

SOUND OF SLOBBERING, CHOMPING AND SCREAMS.

END SCENE.