My sources at the Foreign Office have just handed me this transcript of Israeli Ambassador Ron Prosor’s five-minute meeting with David Miliband this morning:

David Miliband: “Morning Ron, thanks for dropping by.”

Ron Prosor: “Boker Tov Dave, any chance of a coffee?”

DM: “Well, that’s not what we’re really here for. We need to discuss Dubai.”

RP: “Can we not? I went in that big tower once, felt very sick. Admittedly I’d just had lunch.”

DM: “No no, I mean the assassination, al-Mabhouh.”

RP: “Ah yes, good job wasn’t it. Shame about the passport business but at least we, er I mean whoever it was, got the bugger.”

DM: “Yes, that’s what Mr Brown wants me to talk to you about. How on earth did you, er I mean whoever it was, manage to pull it off?”

RP: “Mr Brown? Dave surely you know Reservoir Dogs was fiction. This is real life. We, er I mean whoever it was, actually off-ed the Hamas guy for real. Where’s that coffee?”

DM: “No, the Prime Minister, Gordon Brown. He wants me give you a rap on the knuckles for the passport cock-up.”

RP: “Gordon Brown is the Prime Minister? I thought it was the other guy called Dave.”

DM: “Ha, not yet. Still, May isn’t long for us to wait I guess. Ah here’s the tea girl now. Thanks Harriet.”

RP: “Any chance of some bourekas as well love?”

DM: “Anyway Ron, back to business. This assassination thing. Hell of an effort pulling off that one. Remarkable skill. As I say, the passports have clouded the water a little, but we were wondering if you could help us out. We’re still looking for those WMDs in Iraq, and there was that Osama guy. Any chance your Mossad boys could help us out on those?”

RP: “I have no idea what you’re talking about. What’s Mossad?”

DM: “Very funny Ron, but really, this is serious stuff. We need to take this sort of direct action in other places too, and we’d love your help.”

RP: “Funny, a couple of weeks ago I was here rollicking you over Tzipi Livni and you did nothing and now you want our help to bump off a couple of baddies? Sorry mate, no can do. Thanks for the coffee though.”

[Gets up, pats Foreign Secretary and walks out]

RP: “Amir, get the car. Can we stop for a quick bite on the way back to the embassy?”

DM [Feels inside pocket]: “Where’s my passport?”