The dog days of Brexit will leave a dreadful mess in Downing Street
The cat’s out of the bag. Or more probably hissing from the top of a Downing Street Georgian tallboy now that Dilyn, a wet-nosed, waggy-tailed interloper has deselected him from his own constituency.
But we’ll psychologically unpack Larry the Downing Street cat later. The main thing is that we finally know the real reason why Boris Johnson is proroguing Parliament – and listen up, all you conspiracy theorists, it has nothing to do with cocking a leg over democracy.
As the PM said, these next few weeks are all about the most pressing of domestic agendas: housetraining his new rescue puppy. It’s a tough job; a task demanding strategy, steadfastness and a shipping container of kitchen roll, dammit, but somebody has to do it. And could there be a more accomplished couple?
Johnson’s consort Carrie has had hands-on experience of recklessly stained white sofas. Moreover he has been shovelling up the proverbial since he took over from Theresa May. No wonder they are gearing up for shared mutternity leave.
And the truth is that here in soppy old Britain, news that the pair have adopted 15-week-old Dilyn, a Jack Russell with a misaligned jaw from a rescue centre in Wales has temporarily distracted us all from every last variation of Brexit related, hell-in-a-handcart scenario. Said hound is beyond cute, differently abled and, having been abandoned, might well have been put down had he not found a forever home.
Actually that’s not quite true. This new pup will soon learn (like Boris) that Downing Street isn’t for life. In fact it might not even be for Christmas.
But for now it is his. All his. Apart from gimlet-eyed mouser Larry, the resentful Remainer (Larry is listed in the fixtures and fittings),
with whom he must, somehow, reach an accord.
Cats and dogs can of course get along as long as they agree who’s boss early doors. It saves trouble if everyone accepts it’s the cat if only because they are essentially amoral mercenaries who specialise in aerial bombardment.
Puppies, on the other hand, may be daft but they have an inextirpable instinct for self-preservation. Declaim all you like, Rory Stewart, but when you’re only little and scared witless, holding the line is less appealing (and a lot more appalling) than running for cover and submissively relieving yourself under the portrait of Churchill in the stairwell. Go on, ask the Tory backbench.
Apparently, Boris held an in-house referendum on the prospect of a Downing Street dog and staff voted in favour – and even volunteered for cuddling duty and to take it out for walks. Of course they did; it’s impossible not to go gooey when you see those pleading eyes (no, not Boris, the puppy).
Suddenly it all makes sense! Doughty little Dilyn is more than just the Government’s emotional support animal (hold him gently, Raab, you’re on your final warning). He has been hand-picked in order to soften up Merkel and make Macron broody. In the dog days of Brexit, the nation’s First Puppy is being groomed to lead our last ditch negotiations in Strasbourg.
Why? Because he understands the importance of walking nicely to heel and not making a stinky mess on the backstop.
Oh and for Boris there’s another bonus; owning a dog means there will always be someone in the house, and indeed The House, who will be happy to see him.