Sunday, 1 November 2009


I’m indebted to the Ranting Penguin for pointing out a peer on the fiddle who had escaped my notice, so here’s another story of greed among the top drawer people.

It seems that Lord Morris of Manchester, for that is the name of the fine looking fellow above, has managed to sting us for £100,000 by saying that a small house in Manchester is his family home, despite having had a family home in London for the past 27 years and more... and despite the fact that none of the neighbours at his Manchester pad have never seen him. Yes, you guessed it. It’s that handy £174 a night allowance with no receipts for peers who live outside the English capital..... AGAIN.

He maintains that no one has seen him because he lives at the back of the house. Ah well, that would explain why he’s never seen in the street or at the shops or anywhere else around the house; never been seen arriving or leaving. On the other hand the Noble Lord’s son, Stephen, who lives in Leeds, has been seen at the home. (He must have been living at the front of the house.) Apparently he uses the house when he comes to Manchester to watch football. Strangely the telephone bill for that address is in his name.

How the upper classes live, eh? They get their telephone accounts in the name of their offspring because they sometimes come to watch football.

Lord Morris says that it’s a wonderful place for him because it is only 600 yards from where his mother was born and three-quarters of a mile from where he, his noble self was born.

Oh well, that’s alright then your Lordship. That makes it worth us forking out £100,000 for it.


  1. I know I'm a simple fool, people tell me so all the time, which is why I don't understand the meaning of the term 'main home'

    I thought it meant the place you live. Silly old me. I thought it might mean the place you live more often than anywhere else. What an eedjit.

    It seems that 'main home' actually means a garden shed in a town you never visit, that you have never lived in and never see.

    I feel such a fool.

  2. Sophia. Can I reassure you that, muppet though I am, I thought the same as you. This may not make you feel a whole lot better, but I hope that it is of some mild consolation.

    Who knows maybe there are others who think as we do and this blog is going to flush them out.

  3. Must be lovely music coming from the Palace of Westminster what with all that fiddling that’s going on. They should rename it the Royal Albert Hall. The Royal family could join in with their double basses of fiddling.

  4. No Munguin:

    Like most of the other things they do, they do it all wrong. They couldn't carry a tune in a bucket.

    The only thing that will be music to my ears is the lovely thought that on election day next year (at least as far as the commoners go)there will be an awful lot of glum faces.

    We need to find a similar fate for the aristocrats.