May Day in the village. Morris dancers spill from the doors of the Bonkers’ Arms, while youths and maidens dance around the maypole. The Queen of the May is crowned, whereupon the cavorting figure of the Jack-in-the-Green leads us in procession to a conveniently sited stone circle. Then the aforementioned youths and maidens plight their troths in the meadows. (I used to play practical jokes on Roy Jenkins, but I have to admit that it his reforms that allow them to do it openly.)
Above it all, on a green hill, stands the giant wicker figure of a hare with its wretched occupant – well, he was warned against putting it up in the Bonkers Hall ward.
Lord Bonkers was Liberal MP for Rutland South West, 1906-10.
To St Asquith’s for Divine Service. The Revd Hughes tells us about the Children of Israel, who found themselves in “a great and terrible wilderness, wherein were fiery serpents, and scorpions, and drought”.
Speaking as a Liberal Democrat, I know exactly how they felt.
Lord Bonkers was Liberal MP for Rutland South West, 1906-10.
Each year the winning crew in the Boat Race is invited – “lured” might be a more honest way of putting it – to Rutland Water to challenge the eight from our own University of Rutland at Belvoir. With its jagged rocks, submerged wrecks and wartime mines, the course offers a challenge all its own.
As is customary, Rutland wins.
When the surviving Cambridge oarsmen attempt to introduce one of their customs to the event, I tell them shortly to “Take your hands off our cox.”
You see, the Rutland crew is traditionally coxed by a Well-Behaved Orphan – they may not be that good at steering, but they are all Terribly Light. As I had seen Ruttie (my old friend the Rutland Water Monster) lurking in the deep, and as Ofsted has been asking Awkward Questions lately, I decided that throwing the winning cox into the water might not be such a good idea.
Lord Bonkers was Liberal MP for Rutland South West, 1906-10.
A breeze stirs the May blossom, inspiring me to prop open the French windows in the Library. I settle down to review David Laws’ memoir of his time in government for the High Leicestershire Radical and am embarrassed by my inability to find the volume. Only after I have led my staff in a systematic search do I find it propping open those windows.
I find the book has three heroes: Nick Clegg, Danny Alexander and, above all, Laws himself. (Poor Huhne and High-Voltage Cable, who must be admitted to know how many beans make five, do not get a look in.)
Still, one has to admire the mordant wit of Jonny Oates, as quoted by Laws: “Your constituents will be mad if they do not re-elect you, Danny. And if they don’t, we should ask for all that money back that has been sprayed around your area – the extra ski lifts and the gold-lined roads.” Except that, if you have been to Badenoch lately, you will know that Oates was speaking no more than the truth.
Lord Bonkers was Liberal MP for Rutland South West, 1906-10.
Charles Kennedy found that the path to public approval passed through chat-show studios. Now Tim Farron is taking it too.
The other day he appeared on Matt Forde's Political Party.(Me neither. Apparently it's something the young people listen to.)
You can hear how Tim did for yourself above.
He appears at around 19:30 if you find Forde's opening set palls after a while. He turns out to be a better interviewer than he is a comedian and Tim comes over very well.
That is a site where people are asked to listen to and write about a famous album they have somehow never heard.
Tim will be reacting to Straight Outta Compton by N.W.A.
Funnily enough Lord Bonkers recently wrote about the film of the same name - or at least something very like it:
Today I attend the Oakham premiere of a film I helped finance: ‘Straight Outta Nick Compton’. It tells the story of an opening batsman who is unjustly treated and records the controversial single “Fuck tha Selectors” as a result. I see from its evening edition that The High Leicestershire Radical (which I happen to own) has given it five stars.
“There are no jellyfish in the Lake District,” our own Tim Farron told the prime minister the other day, displaying a strange lack of knowledge of his own constituency. Cameron, you may recall, told everyone to holiday in the North of England following the recent floods, before jetting off to Lanzarote himself.
Last time the PM was there he was stung by a jellyfish – I presume it had been reading about his welfare policy. Incidentally, if stung by the feared Rutland Man o’ War when swimming in Rutland Water, the consensus is that one should urinate upon the affected area or ask a friend to do so if it proves Hard to Reach. I am not sure if it makes it sting any the less, but it tends to take your mind off it.
Where was I? Oh yes, jellyfish in the Lake District. When the Kendal Mint Cake industry was established in the mid 18th century, its product was a beige colour. However, public taste changed and, by the accession of Victoria, had come to demand the pristine white bars we know today. It was found that the only safe and effective way of bleaching the cake was by the use of an extract of jellyfish, so they were introduced to the area. Ullswater and Thirlmere were soon simply teeming with the things.
Other means of whitening the mint cake were later found, which is why these lakes are today mercifully free of jellyfish. By then, however, some had escaped to the fells, where they live to this day. The unwary walker who strays too far from the path may yet find himself suffering a nasty sting.
Lord Bonkers was Liberal MP for Rutland South West, 1906-10.
The new Liberator has landed on my doormat, so it is time to spend another week in the company of Rutland's most popular fictional peer.
Wednesday
To London and the office of the Remain campaign. (I judge it a little on the poky side and ask if they have thought of moving.) There I find my old friends Freddie and Fiona, late of the deputy prime minister’s office, ensconced.
I ask how their economic liberal think tank is getting on. “It’s going really well.” “Did you go to our fringe meeting at the Lib Dem spring conference?” “It was all about Uber.” “Do you know it? It’s this wonderful app on your phone.” “You can call at taxi any time.” “And if you don’t like the driver you can give him a low score and he loses his livelihood.” “We call it ‘the sharing economy’.”
I ask how the campaign is going. “Will Straw is brilliant!” “He says that, a month before polling day, his father phones his agent and tells him to make sure everyone votes Labour.” “So I expect that he will do the same thing with the Remain agent.”
And what of Ryan Coetzee? “Oh, he’s brilliant too!” “Just like he did with the Lib Dems, he is making sure our campaign keeps using the same slogan.” “And then we think he will change it twice in the final week.”
Lord Bonkers was Liberal MP for Rutland South West, 1906-10.
This morning I tweeted an extraordinary story from the Evening Standard:
The leader of one of Labour's biggest London councils faces a party investigation over allegations he tried to “cover up” a colleague’s death to avoid a by-election.
A former Labour staffer claims Brent chief Muhammed Butt told her to keep the councillor's death secret to avoid the election, which sources claim was set to weaken his leadership. ...
Councillor Tayo Oladapo suffered from a severe liver condition and was absent from meetings for months before dying on January 29. It took six weeks for the party to confirm his death, in which time most councillors believed him to be alive and even approved his allowances.
But a whistleblower has now claimed that Mr Butt did know, and asked her to enquire about the death while keeping it secret.
The Standard also says that Butt denies the allegation and "insists it is part of a plot to topple him".
We may know more after the ruling Brent Labour group's AGM today.
Lord Bonkers tells me that he knows of at least one case where an MP died halfway through a parliament and was returned at the following general election. But then people were less demanding of their elected representatives in those days.
These days I find something too premeditated about televsion comedy. The idea of sitting down to watch something for 30 minutes because it will be funny, feels odd. I much prefer wit in the pursuit of another goal.
But the comedies we watch when we were young don't just form our sense of humour: they form who we are.
When I was in the sixth form ... we conversed using lines from Fawlty Towers and Reginald Perrin in the way Victorian schoolboys are supposed to have swapped Latin tags.
Recently Radio Four Extra, my new favourite station, has stated repeating two comedies that take me back further than that.
When I was 11 my favourite radio comedy was The Men from the Ministry. I suppose its anti-Whitehall ethos has its roots in post-war resentment of socialism by the comfortably off - think of the fuss over the Tanganyika ground nut scheme - but it was immensely good natured.
The comedy was in the hands of pros like Derek Guyler and Richard Murdoch,* and it managed to be funny despite, even because of, its formulaic plot.
Their General Assistance Department would have two projects on the go, get them mixed up (perhaps sending the letter referring to one project to the other and vice versa) and there would be a news bulletin describing the resultant chaos.
They would fear the sack, but then discover that their boss was happy with it for some reason and live to cause chaos another week.
So ingrained is the show's comedy in my own sense of humour that I recently heard a joke that I stole for one of the first couple of Lord Bonkers' Diaries. (It is a sobering thought that those first diaries are nearer in time to my 11-year-old self than they are to me today.)
But I can go back further than that.
Radio Four Extra has started to repeat The Clitheroe Kid, which was my favourite radio comedy when I was 8.
You'll get a good idea of Jimmy Clitheroe's schtick if you watch the video above of him with George Formby. He was the ultimate precocious, cheeky schoolboy.
Except that Much Too Shy was made in 1942 and Jimmy Clitheroe was born in in 1921. Which means that he was already 20.
Because Jimmy Clitheroe - and that was his real name - suffered thyroid gland a birth and never grew after the age of 11, remaining 4ft 3in tall.
So by the time I fell in love with his show in 1968, he was 47. He still turned up for recordings in schoolboy cap and short trousers, but he had the face if a middle-aged man. That is why his television and film career had foundered by then.
Jimmy Clitheroe died in 1973, at the age of 51, after taking an overdose on the day of his mother's funeral.
* Richard Murdoch married into the family of Market Harborough's doctor. When he had his appendix out in the cottage hospital here he was plagued by urchins demanding to see "Stinker". He entertained them by putting his bare feet up on the windowsill and wiggling his toes.
This video of a gorilla at Twycross Zoo in Leicestershire apparently dancing has been very popular on Youtube. Here, exclusively for Liberal England, Lord Bonkers explains what lies behind it:
There is nothing the older residents of the Bonkers Estate enjoy more than the tea dances I host at the village hall.
However, we have a problem. The toll taken by the local industries of Stilton mining and pork pie production mean that many more ladies than gentlemen survive to enjoy an active retirement.
A couple of years ago the ladies prevailed upon me to provide them with more dancing partners. After no little thought, the solution sprang upon me: train the gorillas at Twycross Zoo.
This initiative has proved a great success. When I proposed it some warned me of the danger of ravishment, but I am happy to report that to date no gorilla has complained of molestation.
Incidentally, Lord Bonkers gave his own recipe for long life in the foreword he contributed to the 2014 Liberator Songbook:
I strongly recommend that you either bathe regularly in the spring of eternal life that bursts from the hillside above what used to be headquarters of the Association of Liberal Councillors in Hebden Bridge or get your hands on the cordial sold by the Elves of Rockingham Forest.
A couple of years ago Lord Bonkers reminisced about an incident from the 1920s:
One bright April morning the 11:15 for Northampton Castle left Nottingham London Road Lower Level as usual, but it never reached its destination. It was seen to call at Melton Mowbray North, and there were unconfirmed reports of it reaching Clipston and Oxendon, but one thing is sure: it never arrived in Northampton.
Extensive searches were undertaken and reports of sightings from as far afield as Bodmin Road and Leeming Bar were followed up, but not a trace of the train or its passengers was ever found.
What I didn't know then was that this is strangely reminiscent of a short story by Arthur Conan Doyle called The Lost Special.
It is not a Sherlock Holmes story, but he surely makes an appearance as the writer of a letter about the affair to The Times.
You can listen to a reading of it by David Schofield on the BBC iPlayer for the next four weeks.
A final thought... Can I be sure that Lord Bonkers was not pulling my leg?
Lord Bonkers concludes his visit to the United States.
As for we Liberal Democrats...
Then there is the Labour Party, as the New Party is calling itself these days. They need to dump Jeremy Corbyn, Christopher Robin Milne, Chairman Mao and all that crew and find themselves someone who can connect with the workers, as they flatter themselves they used to do. Frank Byers’ granddaughter is Terribly Keen, some military fellow called Jarvis has the skills you need in a closely fought by-election, but I am not holding my breath.
As for we Liberal Democrats, we need an ingenious new plan that will see us returned to the front rank of politics. What we should do is… Dash it all! My flight has just been called.
Lord Bonkers was Liberal MP for Rutland South West, 1906-10
I had lunch at the Queen's Head in Billesdon today a pleasant Marston's pub. The village trail leaflet tells an interesting story about it:
In the late 19th century, the landlord of the Queen’s Head was Tom Plumb, the famous All-England wicket-keeper of the 1860s, described by W.G. Grace as ‘about the best wicket-keeper of his time.’
He coached two Billesdon players who went on to play for Leicestershire: spin bowler William Finney and fast bowler Arthur Woodcock. Woodcock achieved a national reputation as the fastest bowler in England, and his Wisden obituary opined: ‘how much Leicestershire’s promotion to the first-class [in 1894] was due to his bowling is a matter of history.’
Thomas Plumb was born at Aylesbury, Buckinghamshire, 26th July, 1833. His height was 5 ft. 10 in.; weight, 12 St. As a wicket-keeper he was not considered quite up to Lockyer or Pooley's form, although I cannot account for it; possibly it was owing to his connection with Buckinghamshire, whose position as a county was not first-class.
I am inclined to believe if he had had greater opportunities for displaying his powers, or if he had been connected with a crack county, he would have taken quite as high a position as either of the famous pair I have just mentioned. Anyhow, I am convinced that he was a great deal better than he was thought, and about the best wicket keeper of his time against fast bowling.
His style was quick and neat, without the slightest show; and while as keen as anyone, he never kept knocking off the bails uselessly as I have seen others do.
But there is a sad story about him which did not make my trail leaflet. You will find it in his obituary in the 1905 Wisden:
The death took place on March 29th of the once-famous wicket-keeper Tom Plumb. For some years he had been in very poor circumstances, and he passed away in the workhouse at Northampton.
Lord Bonkers adds:
People moaned about Kerry Packer and Tony Greig, but the improvement they secured in the lot of cricketers means that it is many years since I have heard of a wicket-keeper (even one from an 'unfashionable' county) entering the workhouse.
I did once see Bruce French selling matches in Worksop marketplace though.
We join the old boy as he waits from his flight back from the states.
Liam Fox? My dear, I screamed!
So here I sit in the VIP departure lounge at JFK, fighting off all attempts to put ice in my Auld Johnston. Before they call the flight to Oakham International, let me share with you my hopes for the months ahead in Britain.
First, the Conservative Party. Cameron has made that the fatal error of announcing that he will go before the next election, with the result that the his potential successors have been running wild. Let me list them…
George Osborne, whose political philosophy does not extend beyond the demand that he should have all the sweets and have them now.
Theresa May, who reminds me of a Matron I once employed at the Home for Well-Behaved Orphans. Whilst Terribly Efficient, she was unwilling to take the broad view on bedtimes and muddy knees providing the first XI won its fixtures and her charges showed promise at committee room theory and practice.
Boris Johnson, who wears a Donald Trump fright wig.
I also heard Dr Liam Fox refuse to rule himself out as a future Tory leader. My dear, I screamed!
Lord Bonkers was Liberal MP for Rutland South West, 1906-10
Another dispatch from Lord Bonkers recent visit to the United States.
The New Rutland Primaries
By now you will have heard the results of the New Rutland primaries, but I placed my bets as follows. In the Republican contest I put my money on a fellow who rejoiced in the name of ‘Trump’. He goes around in a Boris Johnson fright wig and is the sort of Fascist who would long ago have been debagged and thrown in a stream in the original Rutland, but he is all the rage with the Republicans over here.
My choice on the Democrat side was Hilary Clinton. She is the wife of the former President Clinton and, as such, has had A Lot To Put Up With. Her only rival for the Democrat nomination is one Bernie Sanders, who came bounding up to me at the Gladstone hustings. Did I know his brother, who used to be a Green councillor in Oxford?
It happens that I do know him. I once made the mistake of sitting opposite him at Paddington and was treated to a lecture on how methane generated by cows was causing the atmosphere to warm with the result that subsistence farmers in the Nazca Desert could not make a living and were turning to asparagus farming with the result that the polar ice caps were melting which meant the fishermen of Ullapool were unable to… At this point I bribed the guard to stop the train and put me off at Didcot.
My own address to the Democrat event went tolerably well and when I left town the next day aboard the 3.10 to Yuma, a little fellow called “Come back, Bonkers!” after me.
Lord Bonkers was Liberal MP for Rutland South West, 1906-10
A second day in the US with Lords Bonkers. Today he meets an old friend who once featured prominently in these diaries.
My old friend Rising Star
It seems the Red Indian influence remains strong in New Rutland to this day. Who should I meet when I arrived in Gladstone, the state capital, but my old friend Rising Star, at one time the Liberal Democrat MP for Winchester?
We went for a firewater and he told me that he had given up politics and returned to the trade of his forefathers: he is dealing in animal skins ("Um nice little earner.") When I asked him what he had made from afar of the travails of our party he replied with characteristic sagacity: "Heap big trouble."
Lord Bonkers was Liberal MP for Rutland South West, 1906-10
The new issue of Liberator is on its way to subscribers, which means that it is time to spend another week at Bonkers Hall. Except, Lord Bonkers if far from the Hall as he writes this...
Do you know New Rutland?
I sit in one of the dives on 52nd Street writing this diary before I take a yellow cab to JFK and a jet to Oakham International Airport. I was a regular visitor to New York as a young man, the more so after I was given a Manhattan penthouse by a grateful President for rendering services to the American nation that I had better keep under my hat even today. You will have seen what the locals call the ‘Bonkers Tower’ – perhaps because of the moustache-like structure that protrudes from either side of the 34th floor.
The purpose of this visit has been to observe the contest for the Democrat and Republican nominations at close quarters – the New Rutland primaries in particular.
Do you know New Rutland? No doubt you have heard the tale of how, after a painful schism in the Church of Rutland following an attempt to reform the LBW law, a party of settlers sailed from Oakham Quay. After many vicissitudes they reached New England, before trekking into the interior until they reached unclaimed land.
What became New Rutland was bought from Red Indians and proved to be difficult to farm. (Foolishly, the settlers failed to keep the receipt, with the result that the Indians refused to take it back. Some urged legal action, but the majority felt it unwise to sue the Sioux.)
Nevertheless, the settlers tilled the soil and raised their animals to build an economy based on the production of Stilton cheese and pork pies. Why, to make themselves feel even more at home they even dug a vast artificial reservoir and named it New Rutland Water!
I travelled there last week, receiving something of a cool welcome when I disembarked at a wayside station. There were three fellows hanging about, and not one of them had thought to bring me a horse! Well, I soon put them right, I assure you, and also told the stationmaster to oil his wind-pump.
Lord Bonkers was Liberal MP for Rutland South West, 1906-10
The sad death of Eric Avebury means there has to be a by-election to choose a new Liberal Democrat hereditary peer.
A BBC News report suggests there will be two candidates: John Russell (the current Earl Russell and the son of the much-missed Conrad Russell) and John Thurso (former member of the Lords and former MP for Caithness and Sutherland).
But then the electorate is barely larger than the number of candidates:
Three current Lib Dem hereditaries are entitled to vote: Lord Addington, the descendent of a Conservative MP from the 1880s; the Earl of Glasgow, the descendent of one of the Scottish Commissioners who negotiated the 1703 Union of the kingdoms of Scotland and England; and the Earl of Oxford and Asquith, who is directly descended from the Liberal Prime Minister H H Asquith.
Or should that be four current Lib Dem hereditaries?
Lord Bonkers holds a Rutland peerage, which means he is sometimes overlooked by the pundits, but he is determined to vote in this election.
I don't know which way he will vote, but he did remark at dinner the other night that "the Russells always come good in the end" and that "this Thurso fella needs to make up his mind which House he wants to sit in".
He also said that a donation to the Bonkers' Home for Well-Behaved Orphans before the votes are cast on 19 April would be "a Terribly Nice Gesture".
