The PM extant was actually IN, as it happens.
After all the fall-out, follderol and flap of the British election a couple of days ago, matters were still not decided to anyone's satisfaction. Crowds milled about at the entrance to Downing Street, and I thought "nothing ventured, nothing gained," so I approached the guards and asked what kind of press accreditation would get us in. "Fraid not, mum," was the reply, more or less. But when the guards saw that John wouldn't come over to the gate, one of them asked me if it would "greatly annoy" my husband if they were to let me in, and I readily agreed it would. So in we went! The picture -- with the door-guard (not my New Best Friend who let me in) shows me about to use the door-knocker to announce my visit. As I left, I was surrounded by people wanting to know how I had gained access, and I simply had to say: "Oh, I'm an accredited journalist with a press card" in order to shake them off.
In closing: "Woo-hoo!"
