So that's it - the executioner's axe will soon fall upon the premiership of Tony Blair, and the Prime Minister will retire into a hazy world of book deals, lucrative speaking engagements and hard, masculine prison love in the narrow confines of his cell.
What a wasted opportunity the Blair era has been - elected with a gargantuan majority on the goodwill of the nation, he chose to spend his time in power launching Thatcher-lite privatisations and Anthony Eden-esque foreign policy catastrophes.
This was a man who could weave gold from a few sentences, which is just as well, since he'll be serving at least one by this time next year.
A man of many convictions, although not as many as he'll have once the Crown Prosecution Service are finished with him.
I can just imagine an older, greyer Blair, many years from now, contemplating his legacy to the nation with a companion.
"Could we have done more?" he'll ask, "Was there a way we could've revitalised left-wing politics and brought democracy to the Middle East?"
"No idea mate," his companion will respond. "Now, do you want to be Mummy or Daddy?"
"Er," Blair will say, furrowing his brow, "I think I'd really rather be Daddy."
"Excellent," his cellmate will say, "Now, come over here and suck Mummy's dick."
What a sad way to end such a glorious career.
Surely a small minority of Britons will send their best wishes to him upon his retirement, although he might find it more useful if they sent him a file in a cake.
Still, at least Blair won't be lonely - if he spends much of his retirement surrounded by criminals, fraudsters and mass murderers, I imagine he'll chiefly feel a warm glow of nostalgia.