SUPERLATIVE political leader Arlene Foster surveyed the scene in the boardroom at DUP headquarters with the steely determination of every superlative political leader she had ever read about in books about superlative political leaders, as well as that A Life in the Day feature in the Sunday Times Magazine.
She really liked that page, especially when it interviewed other superlative political leaders or people superlative political leader Arlene Foster herself sometimes just admired, like Claudia Winkleman, Donny Osmond and Tim Martin.
"It's only a matter of time before the Sunday Times ask me to be in the magazine," she thought.
The Fermanagh woman knew this would make a change from all those stories about RHI and Brexit and young Ian that the media was always trying to drag the DUP into.
"Life would be much easier as a superlative political leader if it wasn't for the media," the celebrated brooch wearer sighed to herself, forgetting momentarily that the Belfast Telegraph published articles that the press office sent in her name.
Such lapses in memory were to be expected from time to time. Even superlative political leaders couldn't be expected to be across every jot and tittle. That's what Post-it Notes were for.
But that wasn't important right now. This meeting was far more important.
There was only one item on the agenda, and it definitely wasn't Brexit.
That's because this very important meeting was about the DUP's first party political broadcast for the December 12 general election.
At an earlier very important meeting, Timothy had been adamant that there should be no mention of RHI or Brexit or anything about the Irish Sea.
Arlene had also decided that Sammy should not appear in this first film because his constituency had an actual Irish Sea border, and those nasty people in the media would inevitably contrast any footage of Larne with that 'two borders' stuff that the submarine commander talked about.
In any case, there were always contrast issues where Sammy was concerned, especially on older television sets.
The first minister-in-waiting reminded herself that the Irish Sea wasn't even the Irish Sea where Larne was concerned, so all the talk about the Irish Sea border made no sense.
Only pedants seemed to call it the North Channel, she mused, making a mental note to rename it the 'Northern Ireland Channel' as part of the Glorious Centenary she would inaugurate in 2021.
Gavin cracked open another bottle of Shloer.
"I hope it's not that ghastly mango flavour," said the DUP leader, to gales of laughter around the table.
"Just don't say slant-ye or people will think we want an Irish language act," wisecracked Gregory Campbell, widely regarded as the best known Gregory in not only the DUP but also East Londonderry and other points of the compass in Londonderry.
That's what she liked about these meetings at HQ - they were always such a laugh.
But they also had work to do if they were to put Northern Ireland first.
"Hit play, Timothy."
The room fell silent. Apart from her own starring role, her favourite part of the production was Gavin and Emma meeting for a cup of tea in a café.
Gavin poured, of course; it would assure people that they had both moved on from that unfortunate Short Strand bus stop business.
The video was a triumph. It met all their objectives - no RHI, no sea border, no years and years of dismal failure and dysfunctional government at Stormont with Sinn Féin, no facilitating Boris Johnson and Dominic Cummings in Vote Leave and, above all, no Brexit.
"I think I can speak for all of us, Timothy, when I say it's genius to pretend this Westminster election is actually about the assembly," said the west-of-the-Bann woman, summing up the mood.
A phone rang. It will be the Sunday Times Magazine, thought the only superlative political leader in the room.
