After the phoney war came the phoney peace. For the best part of a month, the main parties in the UK election avoided the snarling bulldog in the room. Deficit, what deficit? Talking about pain during a general election campaign is about as fashionable as discussing the quality of tea at an S&M convention.

Nobody mentioned the war that a new government would be declaring on public spending. One-hundred-and-sixty billion in the red? Let's talk about cuddly stuff like trident missiles instead.

So it went during the UK general election campaign. Two weeks ago, an American economist relayed a conversation he had had with the governor of the Bank of England, Mervyn King.

"I saw the governor of the Bank of England last week when I was in London," David Hale told Australian TV. "And he told me whoever wins this election will be out of power for a whole generation because of how tough the fiscal austerity will have to be."

This was the prize that the main party leaders were fighting over last weekend, as the UK came to grips with an election result in which horse-trading rather than triumphant crowing was the defining symbol. Who would have the pleasure of power that they might inflict some severe pain?

David Cameron's Tories had the most seats, so he got the ball rolling. Last Friday week, he said he was making a "new and comprehensive" offer to Nick Clegg's Liberal Democrats to govern together. It was just like old times in Old Blighty. The toffs were about to take over the reins of government once again, harking back to the days when Britannia ruled the waves, and the lesser native mortals knew their place in the order of things.

Negotiations

The negotiations got underway while Britain looked on. Unlike most of the rest of Europe, the Brits are unaccustomed to post-election negotiations. They expect a smooth transition the day after, in which the departing and incoming PMs play revolving doors at No 10. This stuff upset that which our own dear departed leader, Bertie Ahern, once called the apple tart.

The press was not impressed with either of the main party leaders. In the UK, the allegiance of the printed media is transparent. In this campaign, the only rag to declare for Labour was the Mirror. Others like the Guardian sat on the fence while most of the Tory press made no secret of their wish for a return to the days of Blue Tory.

The biggest player in the British media, Rupert Murdoch, had let it be known he wanted to be rid of Brown.

On Saturday, the Sun twisted the knife. "Squatter holed up in No 10" its front page screamed, in response to Brown's reasonable position that he must remain PM until somebody was ready to displace him.

The papers didn't spare Cameron. Most, either through editorials or columns, expressed dismay that despite all he had going for him, Cameron had failed to close the deal with the electorate.

The last time the British people experienced a coalition government was 70 years ago. They didn't have Sky TV then. They didn't have Kay Burley or that Jeremy Thompson dude whose voice is so deep you expect him to break into 'Old Man River' at any minute. Oh how blessed they were in those long-ago days that their living rooms were insulated from these creatures.

We are not as lucky. Through the weekend there were constant shots of Whitehall, where the negotiations were going down. Occasionally, one of the principals was glimpsed in silhouette at a window in pensive repose.

Then there were the lingering shots outside the respective homes of Toff One and Toff Two, David and Nick, who emerged occasionally to brief the media or scurry off in the back of a car.

Far from the cameras, deep in the bowels of Westminster, subterfuge was afoot. While the Lib Dems were in official talks with the Tories, they were also conducting an unofficial – and highly secret – pow-wow with Labour figures. Appropriately occupying the shadows were two princes of darkness.

Alastair Campbell and Peter Mandelson had delivered New Labour into the world and now they were intent on maintaining the entity on a life-support machine. They were among the Labour figures getting down and dirty with the Lib Dems on the qt. Both men had history with Gordon Brown, running back to the days when shiny happy Tony was the golden boy and Brown the usurper. All that was in the past now, yet irony informed his exit as leader. Just as he had shooed Blair out of the role, now Blair's main allies were charged with issuing him with his marching orders. They may not have directly informed Brown he had to go in order to keep New Labour in power, but he knew the form.

Brown made one last desperate attempt to hold on. He met Clegg on Sunday and offered to step down after a year if the two parties went into coalition. No go, said Clegg. Having played his last shot, Brown went home to brood.

Meanwhile, offshore, the markets were waiting to pounce. As we all know by now, democratic states are but putty in the hands of The Markets. Where once there were monarchs with the power over life and death, now there are The Markets. By Sunday evening, soothing nosies were emerging from the parties, just in case The Markets were to wake on Monday with a hangover and get stuck into the pound.

Bombshell

As it turned out, Monday dawned full of hope. A meeting between Toff One and Toff Two was scheduled to tie up the loose ends. All looked on course for a brand new way forward. In front of the cameras at least, New Labour was fast being regarded as old hat. Toff One and Toff Two were the only game in town. At midday, Clegg's chief of staff Danny Alexander emerged from the talks to inform the media that "good progress" had been made between his party and the Tories. The smart money was saying that Cameron would be off to see the queen sometime later that day.

Within a couple of hours, word came through that Clegg had had a face-to-face meeting with Brown earlier in the day. Not much was made of it.

He had also broke bread with his fellow Toff that morning. (It wouldn't emerge until later in the day that the meeting between Brown and Clegg involved the PM offering to commit political hari kiri in the name of a Lib Lab new order.)

The Lib Dem MPs went into conclave at 3pm and emerged to declare that some clarification was required from the Tories. Then, just shy of 5pm, Brown walked out onto Downing Street with his bombshell.

"Mr Clegg has just informed me that while he intends to continue his dialogue that he has begun with the Conservatives, he now wishes also to take forward formal discussions with the Labour party. I believe that it is sensible and in the national interest to respond positively."

He was removing himself as an obstacle.

The poor Tories were apoplectic, and they weren't the only ones.

At 5.40pm, Sky brought up a conflab between its political editor Adam Boulton and Campbell. It was obvious from the off that Boulton was of the school that believed good old English fair play had been absent from the Lib Dems' dealings with Labour.

"Adam, you're obviously upset that David Cameron is not prime minister," Campbell shot.

"I'm not upset," says poor Adam.

"You are, you probably are," says Campbell.

"Don't keep casting aspersions on what I think. I am commenting… don't keep saying what I think."

Then Campbell moved in for the kill, trying to calm the reporter whom he had skilfully riled to the sky.

"This is live television," the guest reminded the reporter. "Dignity, dignity." The piece finished with Campbell declaring, "Adam, you are as pompous as it gets."

The segment said much about current British politics. Campbell, who had over the previous 15 years managed to skilfully displace substance in politics with spin, turning the tables on one of the stars of Murdoch's media, where the Tories are now the favoured supplicants.

It was the Tories' turn to meet in conclave. They emerged trailing white smoke at 7pm. Their very last offer to the dastardly Lib Dems would be a coveted referendum on electoral voting. William Hague told them to take it, as leaving it would mean "propping up a second unelected prime minister in a row."

A VERY LABOUR COUP screamed the true blue Telegraph on Tuesday. The morning TV shot was of the Labour delegation leaving Downing Street with their riding instructions for negotiations. All the serious money was now on Labour to do the deal.

Off to the queen

That came unstuck by early afternoon. The two tribes could not agree. Afterwards, each side would claim the other was not serious about negotiations. But the suspicion is that Labour finally saw the wood for the trees. With Brown cast aside, their best option was to slink onto the opposition benches and scream blue murder for two years as the cuts were imposed on an outraged populace.

Brown called on the queen before 6pm. Soon after the TV eye in the sky spotted ­Cameron's car en route to the palace. There was no confirmation of the occupant, but the camera stayed on the car snaking through London traffic, as if on the tail of a criminal suspect.

By 8.30pm, Cameron was in situ in Downing Street as the prime minister. There was no triumphalism or punching the air. He just stumbled over the line into power.

The following morning the PM and his partner posed for pics. Toff One and Toff Two in the seat of power, just like the old days. The serious money reckons it will be a shaky ride from here on in.