Exclusive – First Twinterview with Larry the Downing Street Cat..

Today I had the honour of being the first blogger to interview Larry, the new Downing Street Chief Rat-Catcher.  I approached him nervously as he has already attacked a journalist this week but offering him a saucer of cream seemed to appease him.  To gain his confidence I told him about my puss-cat Pickles, named after the big man of the moment, Eric of course.

Rat-Watching, Downing ST Style..

I asked Larry about his past, all I really knew about him was that he is four years old and was brought in to sort out the pest problem in Downing Street which has been growing gradually worse since May 2010.  Huge rats have been seen entering No.10, they are growing in confidence as well as size and have even been known to wave at photographers!

Larry is no stranger to rodents, having served his apprenticeship with the Marquis of  Carabas, then forming a partnership with an odd young man with big ideas. Together they headed to London where he was initially treated as a hero but soon forgotten as his then Master became more and more wrapped up in a crazy bicycle rental scheme.  

Poor Larry was at his wit’s end, penniless and forgotten when he was invited to stay in a Big house, along with other losers guests. Larry loved it in the Big house, he had as much cream as he could eat and played happily with the others until he was suddenly thrown out back on the streets again.

Since then Larry has tried to find work, appearing on the odd TV programme but finding himself ridiculed and even despised.  

Until now..  this could indeed be the lucky break he has longed for.  His mission is to clear out all the rodents and undesirables, not just from Downing Street but the whole of the UK.   Our Big Society cat.

Watch out, Larry's about !

Should old acquaintance be forgot …

She twirls in the mirror, the silken skirt swishes around her knees with a gentle sigh, then falls still.  Hand reaches to brush her gold hair for the last time before she sprays it with a fine mist.  Lastly, a hint of colour to her lips and she is ready.  One last look in the mirror tells her that she looks lovely tonight. Slowly she closes her eyes as though in prayer then, with a determined nod of her head she leaves the room and heads off to the party.

Smile and walk.   Hold glass tightly to breast. Keep moving.

“Yes, lovely isn’t it? Wonderful food”.

Dancers glide.  Laughter rings. Stand in corner. Still.

Glasses are charged and raised, the countdown begins.  She is pulled from the shadows, smile firmly fixed into place.  “Three, Two, One.. Happy New Year!” 

Emptiness.

Couples gaze, whispers of promises made. Soft kisses exchanged.

Pain.

She slips away as the crowd link arms in preparation for “Auld Lang Syne”.  Nobody notices her leave, so entranced are they by the colourful images of the brand new year, bursting like bubbles in each other’s eyes.

Home. Slips off coat and shoes, places evening bag on the bed.  Looks in the mirror.

Emptiness.

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