It is entirely possible that Chicken and I may not be the Prime Ministers. This is the conclusion I have drawn, after looking at all the available evidence. The official line is that our Greyhounds In Charge Party was never put forward to run in the election. I, however, smell CONSPIRACY.
I intend to continue with my fight, and will not stop until I have taken up my rightful place as leader of this country. Chicken concurs. Our Deputy Prime Minister has literally been hung out to dry. On the washing line. The Mum of our Refreshments Minister, Miss Daisydog, said it was a hung parliament and she was right. Big Ted concurs.
For the last few days, Chicken and I have been held prisoner in our own unit. There was some talk of The Fairy saying that the patio was hurting her feet, as a result of which, we are not allowed to go for walks. This makes no sense at all. It is very cool in the living room so I see no reason why anybody would suggest it is too hot to go for a simple walk. I have made my objections known. Unfortunately, all my jumping around and protestations have had a nil effect.
So. I’m not the Prime Minister yet, I’m stuck in the house because of a small amount of weather, AND I have been informed that I am on a diet. Hoorah.