As one British cabinet minister put it this week, the press were so excited about the annual government shuffle they had moved him from his post more times than a jack of diamonds at an international bridge competition.
He had planned a long time ago to adopt a "happy-go-lucky" approach to the yearly political merry-go-round, rather than wait beside the telephone for the call from No 10 which would seal his fate.
And unlike Dr Mo Mowlam, who left Westminster speculation behind and went on holiday on Monday - some said this meant her job in Northern Ireland was safe, others that it was an act of political suicide - there would be no public pleas to keep him in his post.
Such is the political etiquette of the shuffle and its refinement under the Conservatives and now the Labour government that there are many pitfalls to avoid and tightropes to walk before the new golden boy or girl can stride purposefully along Downing Street and hop into the ministerial car. Or for that matter, graciously accept their fate while secretly plotting a triumphant return at the cost of the party leader, preferably in a hard-fought but honourable leadership battle.
Mr John Major set the precedent when he was at No 10 of sparing MPs the embarrassment of a long walk in front of the assembled cameras and journalists at Downing Street before learning their fate.
He would telephone the losers in advance and, as the media guessing-game continued, absence would speak louder than words.
Other former Tory ministers, as the story goes, actually "disappeared" from their offices for a few weeks while Mrs Thatcher's minions tried desperately to contact them to offer or remove them from cabinet posts.
Some former Tory ministers have even suggested that colleagues remained in office much longer than expected simply because they could not be tracked down during shuffle season, but the idea that Mrs Thatcher would have put up with that is, frankly, laughable. However, it might give pause for thought in Dr Mowlam's case.
Refusing or delaying giving your prime minister an answer is also a shuffle no-no. Removing the then foreign secretary, Mr Geoffrey Howe, from his post, Mrs Thatcher knew she had a difficult task on her hands because he had always wanted her job. She offered him the leadership of the House of Commons - a good post she thought since the chamber was about to go live on television - then the Home Office and finally Deputy Prime Minister, but he simply stalled for time.
In her autobiography, Lady Thatcher reflected on the affair: "He just looked rather sullen and said that he would have to talk to Elspeth first. This, of course, held up the whole process. I could see no other ministers until this matter was decided.
"It was predictable that Geoffrey would be displeased. He had come to enjoy the trappings of his office and his two houses, in Carlton Gardens in London and Chevening in Kent." Mr Howe became her deputy, but it was not a post invested with much power, and Lady Thatcher never really repaired her relationship with him.
If only ministers were more like Ms Harriet Harman, Mr Blair might say during a private moment this week. When she was sacked from her post as social security secretary last year, Ms Harman was the biggest loser in the shuffle after failing to arrest a backbench rebellion over plans to cut benefits for single parents. Yet in defeat she was loyal to the Blairite camp, insisting she was proud to have played a part in modernising the Labour Party.
So, if Dr Mowlam is moved from Northern Ireland, she will be safely out of the country where we cannot feel her defeat. And perhaps that would be the best course for everyone, especially Mr Blair who like all leaders needs to feed the illusion of unity in the face of disappointment. In such circumstances her decision to go on holiday may, after all, have been prudent.
Such decorum may not be expected from Mr Blair's workingclass/middle-class "shoot-from-the-hip" Deputy Prime Minister, Mr John Prescott. If he is moved from transport after the summer debacle on the Tube and ever-increasing traffic jams, he may not be able to resist a jibe at Mr Blair's expense while the Prime Minister holidays in Tuscany, but in the end it is all good political fun.
When the dust finally settles on Mr Blair's shuffle later today or later this week, political observers may still be wondering about the fate of Mr Peter Mandelson. The Prime Minister once said his project would be complete "when the Labour Party learns to love Peter Mandelson". Could the two be reconciled any day soon?