THE DIARY OF DILYN THE DOG

•We are in somewhere called Glasgow, which Bozzo says is “hostile terrain”. I think this means there are lots of puddles.

He says we are here to save the planet and have a big success. It mainly involves meeting people. There was a man called Joe, who let me sit in his lap while he slept. Tomorrow we’re seeing a woman called Nicola, who is scared of dogs. Bozzo says I should put her at ease by humping her leg.

Bozzo’s team are trying to write something called a tweet. It takes a very long time. “There must be a joke about Copping off,” says Bozzo. “Or calling the Cops. Something like that.”

“That’s not really our message,” says Allegra, who is Cazza’s friend that we don’t really see any more. “We’re aiming for a sense of harmony with nature. That’s why you’re holding the dog in the picture.” ŏ6SHDNLQJ RI WKH ƓOWK\ PXWW ZKDW DERXW D MRNH DERXW noxious emissions?” says Bozzo.

“No, prime minister.” She shows him a piece of paper. “How about this?”

“No, I don’t want to say I love Glasgow. Vile place. I hate it and they hate me. I can hear what they shout, you know.”

“Yes, prime minister.” She scribbles for a minute. -DFN RQH RI WKH ŴXQNH\V ORRNV RYHU KHU VKRXOGHU ŏ:H can’t say ‘together’,” he says. “Too political. Because of the referendum. Same with ‘united’.”

They scribble some more and argue, while Bozzo stares out of the window at the grey sky. “You’d think the Scots would be in favour of climate change,” he mutters. “It could only be an improvement.”

Allegra looks up. “OK, we’re agreed. It’s: ‘Hello Glasgow,’ one exclamation mark. I’ll pass it round for sign-off, and it should be out by this evening.”

A nice girl called Greta comes in. “Eighteen, eh?” says Bozzo. “Best years of your life. Jetting down to Ibiza to dance all night, off your head on pills, I expect?” She looks at him, then pats me on the head. “Can he do any tricks,” she asks, “or does he just wander around trying to mate with things?”

“Carrie’s taught him to beg,” says Allegra.

“Very good. And the dog?” c