My main task this week, as valet to the prime minister, has been trying to prevent my employer from exploding with frustration.
I'm not sure everyone yet appreciates what a visionary and compassionate leader the PM is with so many wonderful new ideas which he is just dying to try out.
For instance, there's his pet workfare scheme which is designed to banish forever the terrible unfairness by which those lucky people who are privileged to still have jobs also get paid for them - while unemployed people get no wages at all.
To rectify this injustice, the plan is that workers should pay their employers for permission to go to work, thus ending discrimination against the jobless.
But instead of getting on with (as he quips, with the self-mocking humour for which he is so admired) "putting the groat back into Great Britain," the Prime Minister has to spend all his time dealing with endless crises.
At least half his working hours at the moment are taken up with briefing journalists and Tory backbenchers on why someone other than himself should resign next.
His latest target is the Culture Secretary.
Initially, that minister was complaining that he shouldn't be sacked simply for doing what he was told to do - but apparently Rupert has assured him that there's no question of him losing his position, so now he's not so bothered about giving up his part-time job in the Cabinet.
Another thing the PM is unhappy about is the notable lack of vocal support he's receiving from his Foreign Secretary. The latter, when confronted, insisted that he wasn't being disloyal - he has laryngitis.
"In that case," said my employer, "could you please give the Deputy PM a big kiss? A few weeks of silence from him, and there's still a chance this government might last until the Olympics."
Well, I'd better sign off now, Mum. The poor old Chancellor is having one of his tantrums. He's been very upset and offended all week, because people keep saying his economic policies aren't working.
"But they are working!" he insists. "The rich are getting richer and the poor are getting poorer faster than at any other time in modern history - why does nobody give me any credit for that?
"Do they imagine that sort of progress happens by accident?"
I'll have to go and make him a warm drink, otherwise he'll be impossible at bedtime. I'll write again when I get a moment. Your affectionate son,
PS I've received a very odd letter from Granny, in which she asks me to lend her 50 pounds so that she can "stock up on ouzo before the rush starts." Please will you try to explain to her that, despite what she may have been told on Twitter, there is no truth to the rumour that Her Majesty's Government is planning a Greek-themed Jubilee in order to get the population accustomed to its Greek-style future.
As for her other idea - that we could run the royal family much more cheaply if we sacked the present lot and replaced them with unemployed Spanish school-leavers at slightly below minimum wage - I find this suggestion beneath contempt, so I've passed it on to the ministry.