The incoming prime minister could find his time in office limited if he fails to ingratiate himself with Larry, the most admired Briton in the Commonwealth
They’re dropping like flies.
UK prime ministers haven’t been lasting very long of late, with the British public highly critical of the way they’re running the country, and more importantly, the many ways they’ve failed to adequately serve the real power in No. 10 Downing St.
We’re talking about Larry the Cat, of course, who has lived in No. 10 since 2011. (The building is technically the prime minister’s home and office, but among the people it’s known as Larry’s House.)
Inadequate humans.
With Keir Starmer announcing his resignation, Larry has now outlasted six prime ministers, and the clock is already ticking on the seventh.
Prime ministers come and go. Larry endures.
"I have accepted Keir Starmer's resignation as my chief servant and have invited Andy Burnham to lay out details for how many meals a day he'll give me" pic.twitter.com/7Ix95PMsN7
Who better to take charge in the UK government’s seat of power than the cat who has lived there for 15 years?
Larry the Cat, the UK’s most magnanimous and beloved feline, has shared his home with six prime ministers since he was brought on to No. 10 Downing St. in 2011.
After elections last week diminished current Prime Minister Keir Starmer’s party and grip on power, it seems only a matter of time before a seventh prime minister applies to share Larry’s home.
But if doing the same thing repeatedly and hoping for different results is the definition of insanity, as the famous saying has it, then it won’t be long before Larry outlasts his seventh and eighth prime ministers.
There’s a simple solution: roll out the big chair for Larry. He already naps in it.
As the UK’s equivalent of the White House, No. 10 is both the residence and office of the country’s political leader, and in 2011 the rodent problem at Downing Street was so out of control that then-Prime Minister David Cameron famously threw a fork at a mouse which appeared during a state dinner.
Enter Larry. A prominent local rescue in London, Battersea Dogs and Cats, recommended the former stray for his hunting skills, and Larry arrived at Downing Street like the Fresh Prince of Bel Air.
He has outlasted Cameron, Theresa May, Boris Johnson, Liz Truss, and Rishi Sunak.
Larry the Cat. Credit: 10 Downing St.
With the prime ministership feeling like a revolving door at times, Larry’s stoic presence has provided the kind of stability the late Queen Elizabeth II would be proud of. He’s become a national treasure, with approval numbers with the public that human politicians would kill for.
Now the sixth human Larry has generously allowed to occupy No. 10, Keir Starmer, is on the ropes. While we don’t pretend to be experts on the procedures, deal-making and Machiavellian maneuvering that allows UK politicians to wrangle coalitions into prime ministerships, the headlines indicate Starmer is on his way out even as he tries to dig in his heels.
He’s lost a significant amount of support since a major election defeat, and while he remains defiant, his own party members have begun to urge him to step down. It’s a familiar pattern to anyone who has observed politicians come to grips with the end as everyone around them braces for change.
Larry celebrated his 19th birthday just a few months ago but has shown no signs of slowing down.
Here at PITB, Little Buddy and I feel that instead of handing the government to another incapable human, it’s long past time to make Larry the official prime minister.
Larry is already the UK’s de facto leader, well-versed in statecraft from more than 15 years of napping in the vicinity of the UK’s top decision-makers. He’s not intimidated by other politicians, and while some (like former US President Barack Obama) have earned his favor, he’s famously snubbed others.
He’s been the de facto power within No. 10 for quite some time, his leadership skills are beyond question, and the kids love him!
As Larry marks 15 years as the chief mouser in the UK’s seat of power, No. 10 Downing Street, Britain’s most famous feline is a constant amid rapid change.
At first it didn’t look as if Larry the Cat’s tenure would last long.
The striking white and tabby mix came highly recommended from Battersea Cats and Dogs, a London shelter whose staff said he was one of their most skilled little hunters. Larry, they said, would adjust well to the busy surroundings of the prime minister’s office and residence.
Adjust he did, but not in the way then-Prime Minister David Cameron, No. 10’s staff, and the UK press thought he would. Larry began his tenure by taking long naps on the residence’s front windowsill, paying frequent visits to his “lady friend” Maisie — a mouser living in another government building several doors down — and establishing a territorial rivalry with Palmerston, the Foreign Office’s mascot and mouser.
“In a separate development, it can be revealed that Larry has a girlfriend,” a droll BBC report from 2011 confirmed, while reporting on a cat-themed quiz night fundraiser at No. 10 to ensure the chief mouser’s yums cupboard remained stocked. “Maisie, a cat who lives at the nearby St James’ Park keeper’s cottage, has struck up a relationship with Larry, a spokesman for the Royal Parks has confirmed.
“There is, though, no prospect of kittens, as Larry went under the knife some time ago,” the report continued, speculating that the chief mouser’s love life could explain “why Larry spends most evenings out – and most days fast asleep in 10 Downing Street.”
It didn’t take long for the press to begin running tongue-in-cheek stories about Larry failing to deliver on promises just like every other political animal, and for a while it looked like No. 10 would need another chief rodent exterminator.
But then Larry began covering himself in glory by defending his new domicile not only from rats and mice, but also from a fox, territorial incursions by Palmerston, ill-intentioned politicians and other undesirables.
As the years passed, Larry’s legend grew. He outlasted Cameron, then Cameron’s successor, Theresa May, who admitted she was a dog person and wasn’t fond of Larry, even denying him the use of her office chair for naps. Then there was Boris Johnson, Liz Truss, Rishi Sunak, and Keir Starmer.
Starmer is Larry’s sixth prime minister, and no one will be surprised if his tenure ends while Larry’s endures. Meanwhile, Palmerston was “retired” to the countryside and only recently returned to politics when he accompanied his human, Andrew Murdoch, to Bermuda when the latter was appointed governor there. Such is the price of incurring Larry’s wrath.
Now at 18 years old, with 15 years as chief mouser under his collar, Larry represents something rare in modern politics: stability and predictability. With the passing of Queen Elizabeth II in 2022, illness and scandal in the royal family, and the usual ephemeral nature of UK politics, Larry has become more important than ever as the stalwart in the country’s seat of power.
Larry’s given the cold shoulder to Irish and Scottish politicians, nuzzled up for scritches from former US President Barack Obama, and forced President Donald Trump to wait before departing No. 10 while taking refuge from the rain under the president’s limo. The famous feline rarely leaves the public guessing when it comes to his thoughts on visiting political figures.
He’s “the most miserable animal you’ll ever meet,” a snubbed Ian Murray, the Scottish Secretary, said after Larry refused to pose for photographs with him. (Murray, it should be noted, was relieved of his post in September, and now holds the lofty title of minister for “culture, media and sport.” Perhaps he and Palmerston can commiserate.)
But that’s part of Larry’s appeal. The chief mouser’s unimpressed reaction to powerful figures has endured him to the public, who shower him with fan mail, treats and toys.
His unintentionally comedic adventures and ability to nap under any circumstances won him the affection of the notoriously fickle UK press, who enjoy watching, photographing and writing about his antics while waiting for the less popular humans inside to update them on the big news of the day.
That’s not hyperbole, by the way: a 2024 Ipsos poll found Larry is more popular than every prime minister to share his home, and the margins aren’t even close.
It also hasn’t escaped the notice of the press that Larry “rules the roost,” and has attentive staff who open the door at No. 10 any time he wants to go in or out. The famous door is actually a blast-proof, steel replica of the wooden original, custom manufactured after the IRA fired a mortar at the residence in 1991. Thus there’s no cat flap, and staff monitoring the door from inside open it as soon as the building’s most enduring resident decides he wants back in.
The prime minister may be the UK’s most powerful political figure on paper, but Larry’s tenure, run of the place, array of servants and adoring fans all prove he’s the real power at No. 10.
Now Larry’s legend will expand even further as the UK’s Channel 4 has commissioned a documentary series on cats from writer-comedian David Baddiel. The series, which is currently filming, will feature Larry in one of its episodes.
Happy 18th birthday, Larry! We hope you see many more years filled with treats, adventures, historic furniture to nap on, and politicians to push around. And if you achieve world peace while you’re at it, no one would be surprised.
The battle between the UK’s most prominent felines could upend the political order and engulf the realm in chaos!
LONDON — Larry the Cat patrolled his familiar route through Downing Street, nodding at the fully armored soldiers and security professionals who lined the narrow passage as if to say “Alright, then!”
The UK’s most beloved feline and de facto head of state felt it was important to personally inspect the defenses and raise the morale of his men as more reports arrived of intense fighting on the edges of the city, where Larry loyalists clashed with supporters of Palmerston, the former chief mouser at Whitehall and Larry’s longtime nemesis.
Palmerston, left, and Larry, right, during one of their epic battles while Palmerston was still top cat at Whitehall.
The British public were told Palmerston “retired” in 2020 to enjoy a more leisurely life at his countryside estate, putting an end to the intense skirmishes between himself and No. 10’s chief mouser.
But it appears Palmerston’s “retirement” was but a ruse, and the calculating tuxedo has spent the past four years laying the foundations for a coup aimed at deposing Larry.
“This has come as quite a shock to us all, obviously,” Prime Minister Keir Starmer told reporters. “Larry’s primacy was always viewed as ironclad. He’s outlasted five prime ministers and will remain here long after I’m booted out of the job. A challenge to his rule is unthinkable, and we will not allow this vile Palmerston-led rebellion to endanger our nation!”
A diplomatic party led by Sir Jacob Rees-Mogg was dispatched to the Palmerstonian camp to discuss a cessation of hostilities, but the former MP was sent back tied to a donkey and smelling powerfully of feline urine.
Palmerston during his Whitehall days. The tuxedo was the highest ranking feline in the UK’s foreign office.
Analysts called the rebellion the most serious threat to the UK’s political stability in centuries, warning of potential uprisings of Palmerston sympathiers in Wales and Scotland.
“As loved as Larry is, he’s come to be seen as an insider, comfortably ensconced in the halls of power,” said Nigel Bancroft, a political columnist with the Times. “Palmerston has reinvented himself as a populist fighting for the interests of the common man. That rebranding, so to speak, has allowed him to gain favor with working class citizens.”
“But make no mistake,” he added, “Palmerston is ruthless.”
The Palmerstonian loyalists delivered a letter with a list of demands to No. 10 Downing St., beginning with the voluntary resignation of Larry and his banishment to the Isle of Man.
They also warned Starmer to banish his two family cats from No. 10, clearing the way for Palmerston to assume power unchallenged.
Despite leading an uprising, Palmerston was making inroads with the public
“That Larry, he’s an okay bloke,” said Alastair Hughes of Gravesend. “But Palmerston is a cat of the people. He gets us. He’s the kind of lad you can have a pint with, know what I mean?”
Political careers, human and animal, have been ended by failure to show proper deference to Larry the Cat.
There’s a current crisis in the UK, one of national importance which must be addressed by all relevant authorities before things get out of hand.
Larry the Cat, Mouser in Chief at No. 10 Downing St. (also known as Larry’s House), is not getting the respect he deserves.
First, incoming Prime Minister Keir Starmer moved into No. 10 this summer. Larry has generously allowed five previous prime ministers to live there, so that wasn’t the problem. The issue, which should have been obvious to anyone with a brain, is that Starmer brought his family cat, Jojo, and allowed his children to adopt a new kitten.
After Larry’s dust-ups with Palmerston, the former chief mouser at the Foreign and Commonwealth Office (FCO), it was established that the lord paramount of No. 10 would tolerate no feline presence other than his ladyfriend, Maisie, yet Starmer went ahead and insulted his gracious host anyway. Wisely, he has restricted his cats to his private apartments while Larry has the run of the compound.
Palmerston was retired to the countryside after crossing Larry. Credit: US Embassy London
Poll after poll has shown Larry’s popularity easily exceeds that of every prime minister to serve under him, so rest assured there will be a new prime minister as soon as election law allows. One does not simply thumb his nose at Larry the Cat and get away with one’s reputation and career unscathed.
Now another politician has run afoul of Larry and his legions of admirers, committing career suicide by calling Larry “a little shit” and piling on the disparaging comments.
Quickest way to invoke the wrath of the entire country. His days are numbered.
Ian Murray, the secretary of state of a country called Scotland, apparently a minor territory in Larry’s realm, said he and the other Scottish ministers “were like kids in a sweet shop” when they attended a meeting at No. 10, not because of government business, but because they would have the honor of an audience with Larry.
But as Robert Heinlein once observed: “Anyone who considers protocol unimportant has never dealt with a cat.”
Press reports suspiciously omit the breaches of protocol committed by Murray and Peter Kyle, the Scottish science secretary, but photographs show Larry snubbing Murray’s attempts to pet him while Kyle watched and laughed.
Or perhaps there was no protocol breach, and the Scottish delegation simply fell beneath the notice of Larry. Surely a cat with so many responsibilities can’t be expected to micromanage the affairs of insignificant vassal states and commonwealth territories. After all, does anyone honestly believe Larry has the time to fret about Monserrat or the Cayman Islands?
Murray, left, seen bending down to pet Larry immediately before being snubbed in front of his colleagues and the UK press. After this incident, Murray’s time in politics will surely come to an end.
Regardless, Murray was not pleased. The man is now on borrowed time, and he knows it.
“And without putting too fine a point on it, Larry the cat is a little shit. So none of us got a picture with Larry the cat,” Murray said after the public diss. “Larry the cat is the most miserable animal you’ll ever meet in your life. I’m not surprised given who he’s had to live with for the last ten years.”
Murray and Starmer would do well to consider the fate of Boris Johnson, whose prime ministry was over the moment he called Larry a “thug.”
Johnson knew full well his dog, Dilyn, had tried to steal Larry’s food and received an appropriate thumping for it, yet still placed the blame on the country’s most revered figure. (With apologies to His Majesty King Charles and the late Queen Elizabeth, who both enjoy popularity nearly on par with Larry.)
Likewise, former MP Liz Truss became the shortest-serving prime minister in the country’s history, lasting only 50 days in office after failing to establish a rapport with the chief mouser, who was photographed on several occasions ducking her attempts at affection.
Larry the Cat shows Boris Johnson the finer points of national management during the former’s turn as prime minister from 2019 until 2022, when Johnson lost Larry’s confidence and was replaced. Credit: UK Foreign Office
Politics in any country are chaotic and unpredictable, but if there is one rule in the UK political system, it’s this: those who get on the wrong side of Larry don’t last long.
Just ask Palmerston, who was banished to a country estate after a dust-up with Larry and still carries a token of the Chief Mouser’s esteem on his left ear, which was cleaved with the might of Larry’s claws.
You don’t mess with with the Mouser in Chief.
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