Downing Street Conference- Kat Burnley

 Kat Burnley stood in Downing Street- centre stage, pride of place. She's been there since midnight. Pawing down her hair, she was camera ready, Spy TV badge gleaming after a fresh splash of pledge. Her predatory eyeballs focused in on the black door ahead- also pledged- fangs extending by the second. Her mouth and fists still stank of whiskers despite the hubba bubba.

The door opened. Someone threw Larry out. Burnley hissed something inaudible and scratched her clipboard. Out came her handbag. Gucci. Tenner in Ibiza. Thrifty. She examined her fangs in the compact. Sharp. Ready.

Soon enough a blonde man was thrown to the baying, waiting wolves. His fingers were in his mouth. His whole fist was in there. Cameras clicked. The crowd surged forward.

Kat snarled, "World king? World king?" Wallace Blondson ignored her. It was his moment. The lecturn was still shiny. Pledge.

A crowd stood behind Wallace, their hands stuffed with tenners, clapping wildly. Some could even cry on demand. That was worth extra. They had twenties. 

Kat listened... it was happening- I brought down World king... I brought down World king she thought, sharpening her claws on the concrete of Downing Street. Larry bounded towards her, chasing a pigeon.

Not now Larry, not now. She thought, jealous. Whiskers was good, but nothing compared to the real thing. 

Back to Blondson. Burnley was in and out, looking at the pigeon. I need Chequers for a party... I haven't served long enough for a speaking tour... 

He turned his back, grabbed Wolf and took a glass of Blue Nun from Jason Fleece Bogg. 

Anger spilled from Burnley's ears. She speared the poor pigeon in one. That's how it's done Larry she hissed. Larry turned and ran inside before a copper shut the door. 

Some things never change.