Big Beast gets in to No 10

"The Big Beast's coming!" was what I heard, just as I was scoffing some nice piece of chicken leg. Naturally, being no coward I went to have a look-see. I was cautious, mind you. Never can tell what a big beast might turn out to be, especially while the Boss and missus are still away. Larry would be no good at tackling a beast of any size, let alone a 'big' one. Arturo was dealing with the rats at No 11. So, it was all down to me!

I sidled along the corridors, sniffing as I went. No strange animal smells to be found. Then, I stopped in my tracks and sniffed once more! There was a smell, a very distinct aroma! It was a mixture of cigarettes, cigars and whisky! Actually, not such a bad smell, but really quite rare these days. I slunk along, close to the ground. I should have been more careful because, thoughtlessly, I bumped into a pair of well worn Hush Puppy shoes. I hadn't seen ones like these for years!

"Hello there!" A gruff voice said, "Who're you, then?"

I looked up to see a plump, red-faced man with a shock of greyish blonde hair. He was grinning at me. I don't like being grinned at. I arched my back and looked menacing. The man laughed. I rushed past into one of the secretaries' offices.

"Whatever is Clarke thinking of?"

"It's disloyal, isn't it?"

"Never been a team player, just ask Thatcher!"

"Big Beast indeed! Mr Cameron will give him Big Beast!"

There was veritable frenzy in the office. I crept behind a curtain and eavesdropped.

So, the man outside was the 'Big Beast'. I was disappointed. I'd expected a panther, at least! But the more I listened, the more interested I became. It seems this man had been causing trouble! He actually criticised Downing Street! He said, in private, that every time there was a whiff of trouble from the papers, Downing Street got the panics and back-peddled. He was particularly upset about the way the poor old silver Fox, Lansley, was being treated.

Then someone else said, "One whiff of gunpowder and Downing Street runs away. It is true, you know!" There were gasps and hushing sounds.

Then a female voice said: "Just listen to this, 'David is very short termist. Everything he does is about getting good daily headlines.' Oh, dear, Mr Cameron will be so upset!"

"Did you see the rest? They said that if you were an old Etonian, then you got away with it. If you weren't, then God help you. Or words to that effect!"

I slinked out of the office and followed my nose down the corridor. The 'Big Beast' was heading for the garden, so I followed. He sat on a bench and pulled out a cigar and lit up! A cloud of smoke filled the air! I watched him, he was grinning and tapping his fingers on the bench. Then, I saw he had his i-pod in his other hand. I crept closer, even I could hear the sounds, it was jazz!

I went into the shade and watched him. After all it was my duty to keep beasts away. Somehow though, this beast didn't seem in the least concerned about anything much.

Boy David will be livid when he gets back! Bad publicity does upset him so! You see, our PM is still very much PR to his very bones. A good PR man can't stand the thought of bad headlines. I wondered if the 'Big Beast' was what they called an old Etonian! Somehow, I don't think he is.