I appear to have missed my chance of being Prime Minister. I was in the process of completing my application form, when Pete Who Can Build Anything turned up to do the patio, forcing me to postpone submitting my application in favour of supervising the build. When I looked up, the job had been taken.
If all goes according to plan, Mrs Theresa May will take over tomorrow, as long as nobody launches a revolution overnight. David Cameron is packing up his house, but is not allowed to take his favourite cabinet with him. Apparently, he is quite upset about this, so has spent the morning talking to it. I say let the man have his cabinet as a leaving present.
My only other option now is to accept the job of Leader of the Opposition, and win the next election on a platform of greyhound voting rights and a no wildlife except greyhounds policy. Chicken has suggested a sausage dinner every day for greyhounds policy, which I am seriously considering.
My political credentials are as good as anybody’s, and I’m sure I could rely on the support of Bob at the Council. If I add police officers to my sausage dinner every day for … policy, Dave from the Station would certainly support me as well. It’s all looking very promising.
I have a meeting with Ugly Cat this afternoon, to discuss his involvement with illegal fracking. He has stated that he has solved the mystery, so I am very interested in what he has to say.