The Dame was promenading behind High Street, Ken when she heard much wailing and gnashing of teeth.
Looking up she espied a sobbing Cllr Moylan looking ready to leap from his balcony.
In times past, over a few bottles of Bordeaux's best, Boris had told Danny he would be rewarded for his years of sycophancy: a peerage was intimated, plus chairmanships of various quangos.
The Dame, being a kind-hearted old thing, refrained from repeating Enoch Powell's dictum that all political careers end in failure.
So, whither Danny?
His options are fast closing down around him.
His arrogance, at the expense of both residents and colleagues, has stymied his chances of unseating the well regarded and gentlemanly Paget-Brown.
The sole advice The Dame proffers is that Danny humbles himself.
He then needs to hope Nick dumps the appalling Cllr E Campbell and gives him the job of looking after the vulnerable of the parish.