RIP Mrs Thatcher, you’d have loved cockapoos

Last week’s final SNL episode of the season showed a sketch about Margaret Thatcher closing the mines after workers discovered millions of murderous Mr Blobbys living underground. It was so absurd and brilliant that I’ve been laughing about it to myself all week. As a result, I’ve been thinking about Thatcher a lot more than I’d like. She even invaded my dreams which I really resent because normally I enjoy that break from reality. In an attempt to exorcise her, I have written over a thousand words on modern things I think she’d have loved but missed out on. Easier than doing the things she’d have hated (Crocs, Pilates, pelvic floor TikTok, silk scarves worn around one hip, an Aperol Spritz). 

Cockapoos. I know at least 30% of my readers have a cockapoo, I personally have Cockapoos in my own life who I love very much but I will not water this down for you. Margaret Thatcher would’ve happily bent down to pet your dog. She’d have been entranced by its little soft curls and weirdly human eyes because a cockapoo is a dog for people who don’t really like dogs. A dog for people who are allergic and stroke a dog so tentatively it might as well be a feeble handshake. A dog for a person who really secretly wants a cat but doesn’t want to admit what that says about them. Cockapoos are everywhere if you live within five miles of a cursed Gail’s. Visit our local park on a Saturday morning and it wouldn’t be hyperbole to say they’ve invaded. And although Thatcher was definitely not much of a fan of people coming here from other countries - using words like “swamped” when referring to the British public's supposed fears about immigration - I sincerely believe our former PM would see a cockapoo as ‘the right sort of immigrant.’ A cockapoo has the surface level  demeanour of a goofball and the heart of a private equity boss considering an investment in orphanages but only if he can trim the fat right down to the bone (cancel hot meals, take away pillows). The cockapoo is always called Archie, always called Bella. These names are used to mask their underlying deeply sinister nature. A cockapoo would happily cut free milk provision in primary schools and boast about it at the yearly away day at a Surrey golf course. Goldendoodles are not exempt from this category in case you were feeling smug right about now. 

Read more