Jerkin' the gerkin

My little red-headed friend has been as happy as Larry since the most famous house husband in the land was caught availing himself of a ham shank at the public’s expense.

In fact, since it’s become known he banks with Barclays to a five-quid-a-night blue flicker, the idea of Mr Smith polishing the bishop has quite illuminated the household of the Communities Secretary.

We’ve been phoning all our political acquaintances just to make sure they’ve heard of Mr Smith’s five knuckle shuffle…even the blessed Gordon got an early morning call.

“Hello, Gordon? Have you heard? I know it’s terrible, isn’t it? Gordon, just to let you know that Michael would never do anything like that; our sex life is extremely fulfilling…No, I’m sure you don’t need to know that, but I think in these difficult times it’s better to be safe than sorry, don’t you think, Gordon…? Gordon…?”

Hazel's down the bookies

Mistress was on the internet first thing this morning "putting a shed load on Justice Jacqui to get the boot by the end of the year".

Pussy understands that the odds are shortening by the minute so her advice is to do likewise and get down the bookies:

"I got in early and got 5 to 1!"

"Who said that?"

Jacqui Smith's blue Sunday

What a quite terrible disaster seems to have befallen the Home Secretary and my mistresses' very good friend and colleague, Jacqui Smith.

Mistress did react in a very peculiar way, however, when she learned of the unfortunate incident chez Smith.

I'd have thought punching the air and screaming "Yes!" a thoroughly unladylike way of responding to such shocking news. But then you humans are such strange and enigmatic creatures...

G20 Protests - pussy's view

Pussy shall be attending the protests today, hoping to give her readers a feline take on the day's excitement.
Mistress Hazel is rather exercised by the whole thing. At breakfast this morning she announced in rather stressed tones that "...these young people don't understand."
She then mentioned something about "positive engagement", suggested in no uncertain terms that "Ed Milliband had asked for it, the supid little tosser" and stormed out forgetting to give me my milk.
I think a little message left in her motorbike leathers might serve to freshen her memory...

Dancing on Milliband's head

When my mistress returns from a hard day dishing out advice to local communities on how to live together in peace and harmony (unless you happen to be a member of the MCB, in which case guys, I'd change the locks if I were you) there's nothing she likes better than getting on her tap shoes and really going for it. Sometimes I wonder whether she's imagining David Milliband's head under her tiny flashing feet. I wish you could see her little legs going ten to the dozen as she practises the latest number the Division Belles have come up with...bless

Hazel Blears' Pussy: my first post!

Hi there!
Hazel's back soon - so just a quick word of welcome to my feline political blog.
As soon as the mistress comes in I'll settle on her lap and let her tell me all the triumphs and frustrations of her ministerial life at the heart of the New Labour project.
I bet you can't wait!
Uh-oh, here she is now and she sounds a bit stressed. Something to do with "bloody Daud Abdullah and the fucking Guardian".
Catch you later (as we cats say to the mice)