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Cheap booze at the local Conservative Club…sign me up at once (and what my Lefty Mrs said)

Tom Winnifrith
Monday 9 December 2013

Still with no internet at the new house of the Mrs, I spent the whole of Sunday working in what I thought was the local hostelry in our new Neighbourhood. At ten o’clock I started wandering home and as I reached the top of the quite steep hill and about two thirds of the way back I started wondering how I will cope with this trek in the snow. But then I saw a bright light burning across the road. It called me towards it….

In a rather tired looking Victorian building there it was. The Conservative Club. With the Mrs away I thought “why not?” and buzzed my way inside. This place is less than 250 yards from my front door with no hills involved. It has Wi-Fi (although the barman did not seem to know what Wi-Fi was all about), snooker and pool tables and very, very cheap booze indeed.

It was just £5 to join and £16 a year to be a member (an extra fiver in the unlikely event of the Mrs, the woman formerly known as the Deluded Lefty, deciding to join as well). I rapidly worked out that at £2a pint/glass of wine I will get my money back very quickly indeed. All I needed was a proposer and seconder who had known me for 5 years and an understanding that I supported the principles of the Conservative party.

Hmmmmmm, low taxes, a small state, putting your country’s interests first, do not like crime. I reckon I can sign up to that agenda although Call Me Dave would probably have to tell a few lies to get in. As for my proposer and seconder?  The man standing next to the bar said “You don’t support Bristol City do you?” I would have thought that my West Ham hoodie was a bit of a give-away on that matter but I said truthfully that I did not. On the spot my new Bristol Rovers supporting friend attested that he had known me for 25 years as did the barman.

Apparently I have to pass an interview in a couple of weeks at which I will attest to supporting Tory principles and stay schtum about my less than supportive views on the sorry buffoons who have run the Party since Lady Thatcher. I will have the dress code explained to me (no Bristol City tops) and also the rules about guests (I can bring the Mrs seven times a quarter but she is not allowed to expand on her lefty views) and then I will get my very own door fob as I am officially in.


I have now confessed to the Mrs in a text message. Much to my surprise she too has considered the issue of getting down the hill in the snow and the offer of cheap booze and Wi-Fi is something that she too finds instinctively appealing. So she is not cross with me at all for signing up with the wicked Tories and, since she too has never supported Bristol City, she is now seriously considering splashing out a fiver to make it a joint membership.  If Call Me Dave can pretend to be a Tory and get away with it for so long why can’t she?

Her journey to intellectual salvation starts with this pragmatic step.

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About Tom Winnifrith
Tom Winnifrith is the editor of When he is not harvesting olives in Greece, he is (planning to) raise goats in Wales.
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