Sunday morning - all quiet - nice morning in bed to read the Sundays! That's what old Larry, the pampered moggy upstairs, told me the Cameron family were expecting!
What with the busy week! What with the kids! What with the 'most annoying person' getting some excellent press! Surely the PM, our Boy David, deserved a bit of peace and quiet. But - the best laid plans etc ...
The first I knew about it was the angry yell from upstairs in the flat! Then, I heard Larry scampering downstairs. An unusual event, you understand, for one so precious. Normally, he is carried everywhere whilst being fed choice bits of chicken. But - not today! The wily old moggy got out of the way and trotted in to find me in the Cabinet Room where I was dozing after a hectic night on the tiles!
"Hey, Butch, want to know why I'm here?" He asked. He was sure I'd want to know so he didn't wait for an answer. He looked real pleased with himself.
"The Boss, (he means Boy David), is up-the-proverbial-pole! He's just read The Independent on Sunday." Larry twitched his whiskers knowingly. "It seems that a man called Lord David Owen wrote an article. The Boss read it out loud, 'It is a tragedy that the NHS is being subjected to this inept, ill-conceived and damaging legislation... the NHS is heading for a train crash and David Cameron, as the train driver, and Nick Clegg, as his guard, will forever be held responsible.' He got angry when he read that, I can tell you. He was hopping mad! You see, I know he thinks he's pretty good at handling people! He's got the charm! Though, that seems in short supply this morning!"
I listened to everything he had to say. It's not often I'm granted the honour of being spoken to by Larry. It's funny really when you think about it. The PM is terrific on PR. He smiles and nods benignly and people think he's wonderful! But really he and that Clegg chap are like Babes in the Wood when it comes to knowing what the world is actually all about. They've been pampered all their lives and wouldn't know hardship if it hit them in the face! Larry is rather like that. He'd been pampered all his life, till he got lost one day in Mayfair and then picked up by the Animal Rescue Squad. Then, as luck would have it, he fell right into it by being picked as the Downing Street rat catcher! So, like I say, they're all birds of a feather - excuse the metaphor - or whatever!!
As for me and old Arturo, next door, we know our place! No bad comments about us!
Just as I was musing, I heard a small girl's voice calling, "Larry! Larry, where are you? I've got a treat for you."
Old Larry was out of here like a shot and heading for the flat! Oh well ...
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