Politics is dog eat dog… so here’s my plan to help Dilyn
Something very strange is going on in Westminster. Of course, it’s always been a spiteful little world, seething with malicious gossip. Traditionally, though, the subjects of said gossip have been politicians. At the moment, however, the subject is a household pet.
In recent weeks, you will doubtless have read a series of unflattering allegations about the behaviour of Dilyn, the little rescue dog owned by Boris Johnson and Carrie Symonds.
One minute Dilyn is alleged to have chewed priceless antique furniture at Chequers. The next, he’s alleged to have cocked a leg over the handbag of a Downing Street aide. And so on, and so on.
The source of the allegations is invariably anonymous. But some people in Downing Street clearly have their suspicions, as we learnt the other day in an article containing one of the most bizarre sentences in the history of political reporting.
“There had been suggestions by members of ‘Team Carrie’,” announced the article solemnly, “that [Dominic] Cummings was behind the hostile briefings against the dog.”
Yes, you read those last five words correctly. Hostile briefings… against the dog. This, it seems, is the world we now live in. A world in which former government strategists stand accused of planting scurrilous rumours about a three-year-old Jack Russell cross.
Of course, it may well be that Mr Cummings is wholly innocent and has never breathed a word against Dilyn. After all, there must be other suspects. Someone with an obvious grudge. For example, Larry, the Downing Street cat.
Personally, I can’t imagine why Mr Cummings would want to do something so peculiar. What would his motive be? Can it be really true that, during a summit at Chequers, Dilyn took a vigorous fancy to one of Mr Cummings’s legs and refused to take no for an answer? Or perhaps it was Dilyn who tipped off the press about Mr Cummings’s trip to Barnard Castle.
Whoever the source of these briefings may be, it does sound as if this poor little dog has made some powerful enemies. Goodness knows what he’ll be accused of next.
Maybe we’ll read that Dilyn was to blame for last year’s A-level grading fiasco, or that he blew millions in taxpayers’ money on useless PPE. Maybe an anonymous source will brief that Dilyn is out of touch with ordinary, hardworking dogs and argue that a Staffordshire bull terrier would play better in Red Wall seats. Or maybe the source will claim that, to reflect the Government’s “levelling-up” agenda, the Downing Street dog should be relocated to the north of England. Chain him up outside a kennel in Darlington, say, or York.
Poor Dilyn. It must pain him to read all this poisonous tittletattle. To date, he has maintained a dignified silence, and at time of going to press has yet to respond to reporters’ questions. Still, no dog is an island, so I’m sure the allegations must have wounded him. He will be determined to clear his name.
I, therefore, would be only too delighted to offer Dilyn my services. Thanks to my many years of experience in the media, I can help him mount a PR charm offensive to turn the tide and restore his reputation.
First, I would urge Dilyn to grant an exclusive tell-all interview to Oprah Winfrey, in which he talks candidly, and at times tearfully, about the pressures of life in the spotlight. The relentless intrusions of the paparazzi. The cruel and unfounded smears, spread by powerful people who just never gave him a chance.
Next, I would recommend taking a lesson in personal branding from Rishi Sunak. Advise Dilyn to tweet soft-focus photos of himself gazing thoughtfully into the middle distance while contemplating a cut in VAT for pet food. Record a video for social media in which Dilyn chats light-heartedly with his team about his weakness for Pedigree Chum and his love of chewing old tennis balls.
Meanwhile, I would work my journalistic contacts and plant helpful stories about Dilyn in the press, designed to demonstrate how influential he is in Tory circles. Ambitious backbench MPS will be photographed sneaking into No 10 clutching boxes of Bonio. Liz Truss will be rumoured to have sounded Dilyn out about backing her in a future leadership contest. Michael Gove, networker supreme, will be reported to have invited Dilyn to a private dinner at his west London home, where guests will dine on bowls of Winalot Meaty Chunks, washed down with bowls of vintage tap water.
There are plenty of other time-honoured methods used by embattled public figures to win favourable publicity. We could arrange photos of Dilyn helping out at a soup kitchen, for instance, or canoodling with a glamorous new squeeze – Lassie, say, or Lady from Lady and the Tramp.
Ideally, there would be no need for my intervention. I like to think that Dilyn’s mysterious enemy, whoever he may be, will see the error of his ways, realise how absurd his behaviour has been and stop spreading such horrible stories about this blameless young creature.
Sadly, however, I wouldn’t count on it. In Westminster, Dilyn isn’t the only one who’s barking.
Next, we’ll read that Dilyn was to blame for last year’s A-level grading fiasco