No, these were confident, in-yourface, make-no-mistake kind of cuckoos, bred perhaps for our ever-more edgy urban environment.

Let me introduce species Labouris Partii, playing it up in their cloud land, soaring and gliding for all their worth, surrounded by limousines, drinks parties, television cameras . . .

hell, even the sun shone to ensure no sudden migration back down south.

Now simple cloud-land is quite easy to create when you have a few quid and a few days to throw at it.

Rent a large space, shut the doors and hang up your lights, banners, logos and flags. Give everyone a badge of belonging, place lots of chairs in rows, play music, and soon urban land, in all its glory of traffic jam and pavement pizza, retreats.

But to step up for the Michelin five-star variety of cloud-land . . . cloudcuckoo-land . . . is not simply a matter of throwing a few cuckoos into the mix. Yes bring on the cuckoos by all means but know that your pockets need to be much deeper than that.

You need star cuckoos . . . this is a show for goodness sake . . . cuckoos with real experience, who really have a clear grasp of the whole concept of cuckoo-land, of its need to depart from reality, its requirement to create a comfort zone, and its potential to stray entirely to worlds as yet unimagined. In truth, star cuckoos are fantasists with one leg firmly on the old Hollywood bedroom floor.

In the land of grim reality, the British Labour party is broke, so just as well it has some home-grown talent available to do a turn at no cost.

There was bruiser cuckoo . . . John Prescott in full flow talking about canals, chefs, cleft palates and then apologising. No, this is not a cuckoo who's lost his way and forgotten the rules of the cloud. He wasn't apologising for the war in Iraq or privatising schools or charging university fees or any of that old reality stuff.

Star cuckoo remember . . . he was apologising for being human, for having a lapse, for having an affair.

The crowd loved it, loved his ability to sail close to the wind but keep them all safe in their cocoon. A masterful performance, clearly justifying his top billing despite his slightly scruffy tail feathers.

Then tough cuckoo John Reid promising that courage would become the new weapon of mass destruction, able to beat the threat of terrorism. He went on to promise to stamp out fear in a kind of general way; after all, specific detail is not welcome in the warmth of the clouds. No, just accept that some time in the future people will not be afraid of anything . . . a great cloud-cuckoo-land image.

Then they queued for top-of-the bill cuckoo Tony Blair. Patiently they ate their sandwiches, prepared their 'love you' placards and preened themselves . . . all for the ultimate cuckoo show. Many of the audience have watched this cuckoo perfect his art over 12 years but even they were not prepared for the breadth and sweep of his performance. They had come home; he delivered them to a cloudcuckoo-land not even listed in the catalogue.

All the touches were there. The deep gratitude in his opening words . . . what a humble cuckoo this is coupled with the trip of light fantastic through his best achievements to underline success. A selection of future goals . . . promises of a glittering future where children are thin,