I have to say this recent piece by Oliver Pritchett in the Telegraph about Dave and Boris having “peace talks” in a pub very much struck a chord:
Children in pubs are now part of the traditional British Sunday, along with those mountainous Yorkshire puddings, which come with absolutely everything, including the vegetarian option. The highchairs are brought out, the doors are thrown wide open to welcome the double buggies, and the babies are passed round the table with the horseradish sauce and wholegrain mustard. The bar staff are good-natured and unflinching.
All this makes life a lot easier for parents than it was when we used to crouch with our children in a drizzly pub garden with a broken swing. But it means the Sunday lunchtime pub is no place for unaccompanied adults, who are likely to feel much less at ease than all the little Archies and Jessicas around them
I am sure that the Cameron and Johnson offspring are beautifully behaved and good company, but if the Prime Minister and the mayor wanted to hold serious talks about Heathrow and all that, they would have done better to get a couple of bottles of ginger beer and a straw each and stand outside. They would then just have to put up with the quiet coughing of the smokers.