The big fat ginger pony had his teeth done today. Other ponies deal with this by opening their mouths and waiting politely for the dentist to finish, before closing their mouths and carrying on about their pony business.

The big fat ginger pony, however, takes a different approach. His preference is to require a vet, rather than a simple dentist. This is so he can first make a massive fuss about the whole unacceptable situation, in an – invariably successful – bid for drugs. Having secured the drugs, the big fat ginger pony likes to feign immediate and total sedation. This is so he can catch the vet – along with any innocent passer by – by complete surprise when he suddenly regains all his faculties just in time to fling his head, by this time encased in huge amounts of metal dentistry paraphernalia, vigorously up and down.

Once the teeth have been rasped (for context: a short, non-traumatic procedure similar to brushing your teeth with a slightly rough electric toothbrush), the big fat ginger pony returns to his former zen-like state, requiring close and complete supervision for an actual eternity.

I’ve decided there’s a lesson to be learned from the big fat ginger pony. He does have a number of recommendations, mainly involving refusal to work and bulk purchasing of polos. I’m ignoring those recommendations though, paying attention instead to his modus operandi with the teeth. I’ve realised what an amazing negotiator he is. He’s clear from the start about his requirements. He sets out his demands upfront (and makes the consequences of non compliance more than clear). He is mildly (ok majorly) threatening but does nothing to cause actual damage or (so far, touch wood) a lawsuit. He gives a bit (succumbs to the rasping eventually) but takes a bit more (drugs, so many drugs). Everyone goes away happy. I even pay for the experience.

I’m just waiting for the call from Downing Street now. I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to trot off to Brussels.