Eat your heart out, Bill Hague.
The "Bill" idea was originally proffered by a not-unfriendly comedian, grappling for ways to give the Tory leader a more rugged image. It wasn't taken up, maybe for fear it would appear one American affectation too far. But, oh, how Mr Hague - plain William - must yearn for a slice of Americana now.
In the short time since he arrived in Downing Street, Tony Blair has appeared to transcend the British political stage - the occasional misdemeanours and sometimes abysmal failures of his colleagues seeming only to accentuate his natural greatness.
In token of this, journalists refer admiringly to his presidential style. Chattering idly it is occasionally suggested that he harbours ambitions to lead a country called Europe.
But even New Labour's luvvies surely underestimate the man's potential. Certainly the events of the past few days have fortified the suspicion that the world stage may have yet more to offer Mr Blair, and that he instinctively feels he has still more to offer the world.
For the ultimate in cool, surely, has been the manner in which Britannia's leader has powered into Washington, telling the American public that his buddy Bill is more than up to the job. Only slightly more staggering has been Mr Clinton's all-too-evident gratitude for this handsome display of British largesse.
The President (Mr Clinton, that is) has a well-known distaste for the stuffier aspects of British life, polished and honed since his days at Oxford. Things weren't helped, of course, by the discovery that the Tories had been raiding the files in search of any dirt the Bush Republicans might dish. And from Ray Seitz's memoirs we know that Mr Clinton laughed derisively at Tory Britain's quaint attachment to the notion of a "special relationship" between the two countries.
But there is no mocking laughter now. The relationship has been fully restored, no longer described as special, simply "unique."
At Thursday night's glittering banquet Mr Clinton recalled how, after the English had torched the White House in 1814, the shrewd Americans had learned thereafter to keep them on side. And his friend Tony was there as living proof that the Brits could be counted on in all things - from the small matter of waging war on Saddam Hussein, to the truly important business of wiping the great affairs of state off the front pages.
Sure, Babs Streisand, Elton John and Stevie Wonder lent a touch of that Hollywood style so beloved by New Democrats and New Labour. But don't be fooled by all the glitz and glamour. There was serious work afoot here.
When the BBC's veteran chief political correspondent had the temerity to ask if Mr Blair was concerned that he might be questioned about the sexual scandal surrounding the President during yesterday's joint press conference at the White House, he found his once mighty corporation dismissed as a "downmarket, dumbed-down, over-staffed, overbureaucratic, ridiculous organisation."
Mrs Thatcher herself would have been hard pressed to match the Prime Minister's official spokesman in this exercise in hand-bagging.