Jim Hopkins: Forsooth and gadzooks, Winston is sore wounded, sire

It is sad to see a newspaper and an eminent person so vehemently at odds, especially so soon after the splendid news about the Rugby World Cup.

Clearly, some form of reconciliation is, as the great Wiremu Shakespeare put it, a consummation devoutly to be wished.

And here it is. Noting that the Bard himself frequently wrote plays that praised their patrons, the Harold has elected to emulate this practice (in style and substance) by commissioning its own theatrical peace offering.

Penned by the extinguished poet laureate, Mr Jam Hipkins, the tribute to the wounded Winston is simply called A Midsummer Knight's Dream.

Scene One: Two envoys beneath a tower.

Herald 1: What light through yonder window breaks?

Herald 2: It is the east and Winston is the sun ...

Herald 1: Okay, son, if you sayeth so, I shan't call thee treason's brat. But this I ask, gadzooks, forsooth. If I lend you my ears, wouldst thou tell me the truth? What doeth the great one within?

Herald 2: Methinks the Titan doth relax; perchance perhaps, perhaps perchance. And, whyth not? For just as common folk do need relief, so too doth greatness need a respite from its rigours. And is not greatness chambered there?

He turns to the crowd behind him.

Friends, Romans, rugbymen, I come to praise Winston, not to bury him

(Loud cheers)

Scene 2: Inside Winston's chamber. Hearing noises, Winston climbs out of his relaxing bauble bath, clearly troubled. Winston: To see or not to see, that is the question. Yet question it is not. For who could be so blind as to deny my greatness? Only ranting scribes would cut me thus. A pox on them, I say! Tis outrage and foul treason!

He stares into the mirror.

Figh! What be this blemish on my countenance? Out, out, damned spot. Thou shalt not mar perfection.

Aide: Alas, sire, this bodes ill. I fear yon wart bespeaks the Avian flu.

Winston: It cannot be! For I've not been to Avia, fool! Only to Korea. But lest the malady hath struck, fetch me quick my Tamiflu.

Aide: Alas, sire, thou art without Cabinet and thus thy name doth not on special lists appear. Thy friends would have thee take pot luck, methinks.

Winston: Gadzooks and tally ho! Thus is true treason's face revealed. A nurse! A nurse! My kingdom for a nurse!

Aide: A nurse you shall have, sir, and forthwith, but let us to our meeting hie.

Scene 3: An international gathering of very important people. Winston arrives and spots a familiar face.

Winston: Is this a Digger I see before me?

John Howard: Egad, you have me, Sir. Thy knowledge of foreign leaders is most excellent!

Winston: All the world's my stage , and I bestride it like a colostomy.

John Howard: As thou seeist thy bestridement, so do we, great Seizer of Baublelon.

Winston: Bite thy tongue, base varlet. 'Tis clear thou art pead of brain and not aware Seizer was a Roman! There never was a Seizer of Baublelon, poltroon.

John Howard: Nay, Sir. and there never was a Foreign Minister outside Cabinet either, till thou didst stitch thy deal malign and cast thy pearls before us swine.

Scene 4: The Merchant of Venus, a seedy tavern in London.

Falstaff: Landlord! Landlord! Fetch me a firkin of ale and fetch it firkin quickly!

Herald 1: Privy, Sir? What brings you to our petty play?

Falstaff: I bringeth comic relief, you pillock. Some humour for the groundlings.

Stranger: Then get thee hence, fat yokel, and take thy haka with thee.

Falstaff: Who be thou, Sir?

Stranger:Why, Jones of the Times I be, and beast I be to boot. But not so beastly as thy crazed thugs who did, in this septic isle, descend to cheatings craven barrage on Twickenham's fair field. Forsooth, I say, If England had summoned just the occasional shaft of genius when they were totally dominant throughout the second half, then they would have won with something to spare!

Falstaff: Ahhh, Jones, true journalist thou art, bellowing the obvious as if it wert a miracle. All thou sayeth is, If things had been different, they would have been different!

Falstaff tears off his wig and reveals his true identity.

Begone, foul dolt or I, King Henry (also known as Graham) shall cut thy gibbering throat. And staring at that flaccid flesh, methinks a finger would suffice!

Scene 5: Meanwhile, back at the Beehive, a worried Press Secretary is advising the Prime Minister of Winston's troubles.

Secretary: Come here, come here, Queen Lear, my dear. For trouble's looming now, I fear. Young Winston's in a frightful mess. He's locked in conflict the press.

Helen: This news doth make me burst with glee. At least his conflict's not with me. So let him strut and let him fuss, it means he is not troubling us.

Secretary: Thou hath a knavish cunning, Queen. The cunningest I've ever seen.

Helen: Enough, I say. Your rhyme's a curse. From now on only use blank verse.

Secretary: I shall your grace, yet beg thee please to grant but one exception. Blank verse for Winston, Queen, I crave. It mirrors his perception.

Helen: Oh, suit thyself. Just don't tell him we've got any Tamiflu, that's all!