The best Club in town

I do find elections rather jolly. All that shouting and egg hurling at hustings. It is a relief that due to to my blue blood, my forbears earnt my place in the Lords.

However, for second eldest sons and commercial types gaining membership of the best chaps Club in town is without a doubt worth the odd rotten egg in the face every five years. Parliament permits them a vague feeling that they are helping the wealthy get wealthier, to drink free claret and to spend copious amounts of the Exchequer’s funds on show girls.

I own two MP’s. I also have another borough where due to those do-gooding Whigs and The Great Reform Act, I now have to consider the wishes of 146 voters. Fortunately, most vote the way I tell them, but some independent minded firebrands need a bottle or two of mead before they come around to my way of thinking.

As the election looms, I shall inform you what my policies are and a contract that I will sign, outlining my promises to you, the Great Unwashed.