
If You’re Looking for Stability, Try a Cat
In an era when British prime ministers rotate faster than seasonal coffee flavors, it turns out the most stable thing in U.K. politics has been a gray-and-white tabby with a government job and a strong commitment to napping. Larry the cat has officially clocked 15 years as Chief Mouser at 10 Downing Street, which means he has outlasted six prime ministers, countless scandals, and whatever phase British politics went through where everyone pretended Boris Johnson’s hair was normal.
This, friends, is what we call job security.
While human leaders come and go amid polling swings, leadership crises, and strongly worded resignation letters, Larry remains planted at Britain’s most famous front door like a furry gargoyle of emotional support. If you squint, he’s basically the nation’s comfort animal.
The Only Approval Ratings That Actually Matter
According to scholars of human-animal relations (yes, that is a real academic lane and yes, they sound like they’re having more fun than the rest of academia), Larry’s approval ratings would put any prime minister to shame. This tracks. Larry has never tweeted. He has never misspoken at a press conference. He has never been caught on a hot mic. He has never promised tax reform and delivered vibes instead.
Larry’s political platform is refreshingly consistent:
– Catch mice (allegedly)
– Nap aggressively
– Appear in photo-bombs when world leaders arrive
It’s hard to mess that up.
If anything, Larry’s greatest scandal is that he sometimes looks mildly unimpressed by the global elite. Which, honestly, feels like responsible citizenship.
From Alley Cat to Civil Servant
Larry’s origin story is the kind of upward mobility tale politicians love to cite while ignoring the structural factors that make it rare. Adopted from Battersea Dogs and Cats Home, Larry went from stray cat to full-time resident of 10 Downing Street, where his official duties include greeting guests, inspecting security, and stress-testing antique furniture for nap quality.
Let me be clear: if this is the bar for public service, most of us are wildly underemployed.
There is something oddly comforting about the idea that while global crises unfold, someone at the heart of government is making sure the couch is still nap-worthy. Bureaucracy, but make it cozy.
The Real Leader of the Free World Is… Asleep on the Job
Larry has a habit of wandering into historic moments like he’s late to a meeting he didn’t schedule. Presidents arrive. Prime ministers posture. Diplomats exchange carefully curated smiles. And then Larry steps into frame, blinking slowly, reminding everyone that power is temporary but naps are eternal.
In a time when politics feels relentlessly dramatic, Larry’s refusal to take any of it seriously might be the healthiest response we’ve seen. He doesn’t care who’s in office. He doesn’t care what party is in power. He cares about the sunbeam on the doorstep and whether anyone has brought treats.
Honestly? That might be the most emotionally intelligent political stance on the planet.
A Mascot for Our Collective Political Exhaustion
Larry’s appeal isn’t that he’s cute (though, obviously, he is). It’s that he represents continuity in a system that feels increasingly chaotic. While leaders cycle through, policies whiplash, and headlines scream, Larry stays put, quietly judging everyone with his eyes and occasionally wandering into the shot like a furry reminder that not everything is on fire. Bless your heart, Larry — just sitting there, unbothered, doing absolutely nothing to fix politics and somehow still making everyone feel better about it.
Maybe that’s why people love him. He’s not pretending to fix politics. He’s just existing within it, reminding us that sometimes stability looks like a cat who refuses to be impressed.
Fifteen years in, Larry may be the only public figure most people can agree on. He doesn’t divide. He doesn’t debate. He just naps.
If only we could get the rest of government to follow that model.
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