Day my dog savaged Gordon Brown

DILYN the No 10 dog has not had a good week. First there was that story about him relieving himself in a senior aide’s handbag, then it emerged that he’s been laying waste to the PM’s official country residence, Chequers.

I’m afraid when it comes to Jack Russells, that is just the nature of the beast. Years ago we were invited to lunch at Dorneywood, the Chancellor’s equivalent of Chequers. We took our own Jack Russell, Mars (now sadly deceased).

We were just sipping our prelunch drinks when there was a blood-curdling scream from the garden. Somehow Mars had found his way to the chicken coop, where several rare breed hens, each one named after a former chancellor, resided.

I had no idea they kept chickens at Dorneywood, otherwise I would have left him in the car. Suffice to say it was not a happy sight.

The bloody remains of one were scattered all over the croquet lawn, and another was so traumatised the cook had to wring its neck. It was utterly mortifying. Our only saving grace was Mars’s choice of victim: the fowl formerly known as Gordon Brown.