Horrid, horrid. It’s all election war footing and aggression and shouting round here. Jed has decided we are ‘too nice’. Says he is going to toughen us up and turn us into ‘attack dogs’. (Am prepared to do almost anything for Dave. But the concept of turning me and the girls into dogs, ‘attack’ or otherwise, is — well — just not very nice).
Our lifestyle guru Sherwood has been sent on decorating leave, the positive energy murals have been taken down, Die Hard With a Vengeance is playing on a loop on the TV monitors and the Tranquillity Room is being used for kickboxing. Suzie from Events says it’s almost as bad as when Lynton was around. The Great C. Fist Unit is working flat out devising insults that rhyme for the tabs, and asking various Labour people we’ve never heard of to defect to us in revenge for Gordo trying to make friends with our people. (V funny that GB now the equivalent of a Facebook pest!) Luckily, have been seconded on to the Harriet Hypocrisy team which only involves looking up pictures of Mrs H. wearing unflattering clothes in the 1980s.
Gah! Bev from the Labour press office on the phone again. Can you believe — she reversed the charges! ‘Not all of us are rolling in donations, you know.’ Demanded to know where I got my information for our press release on something called the ‘draft IGC mandate’. A lot of argy bargy and some frankly hair-raising insults before she managed to explain that she meant the new European treaty. She even had the bare-faced cheek to ask if I’d read it. I totally snapped. ‘Of course I’ve read it, how dare you…!’ etc., etc. I so haven’t read it. Was going to read it Sunday but got back v late from dressage — Sesame was placed 23rd!! Her best ever result. Daddy said if this ‘politics thingy’ doesn’t work out me and Ses could go all the way. He’d had quite a lot of gin but still, v exciting!
Someone called Mr Davies — not DD — has defected. This is apparently very bad news, but we are not on any account to say so. Mr Maude is delighted. ‘I told you so,’ etc.
Bev was right about one thing. We are rolling in money. It’s all this election scaremongering of Gordo’s. Treasurer’s department so excited by flood of cash they’ve installed a big bell which they ring every time they get a donation over £25,000 (with extra rings for multiples of £10,000). Bell rings quite a lot and when it does Mr Maude runs out of his office shouting ‘How much this time?!’ Nigel says he’s never seen him so happy. All us young ones in the press office join in too by shouting ‘Give us a pay rise!’ It’s ever so jolly!
Wish I could get into the chamber to watch the last ever PMQs. I mean, the last with Mr B. Then again, I wouldn’t want to be seen blubbing. Or would I? Not sure where we are on Project Love Tony. There was a briefing this morning at which Jed apparently told us how to react but I’m none the wiser. We are to praise his style and personal attributes, and most of his policies, while somehow giving the impression that we are furious with him for letting Britain down. Don’t know how to do this. Might just be easier to blub.
It surely can be no coincidence that the sky was strangely dark over Wibberley this morning. The horses in the field were spooked and the hens didn’t lay a single egg. Daddy says there’s a monumental storm brewing. I think he’s right.