Lordy Lordy - Pantsgate

I was woken by Box, my parliamentary assistant, with my breakfast tray.

"Your coffee, my lord, your toast and assorted toast adornments.”

“And the morning papers? I enjoy my morning scandal.”

“I’m afraid they’re more scandalous than usually my Lord.”

“Excellent.”

“Not so excellent. They’ve about you, I’m afraid.”

I looked at the Mail first. The front page showed a photo of myself with a pair of underpants on my head. ‘Lord Pants-Head’ ran the title.

“How can that be news Box, that photo’s forty years old?”

“It is nonetheless an embarrassing photo my Lord. You’re a respected peer of the realm, the unwashed masses expect a certain decorum from their unelected betters.”

“But it’s nothing Box, just a drinking game when I was at university. You should see what we made the old PM do, a forfeit involving a pig’s head. Quite disgusting, I think I’ve got the photos somewhere.”

After breakfast I dressed and headed to the Lords. Like a naughty schoolboy being sent to the headmaster, I was greeted with a message that I must immediately go and see the Chief Whip.

“Ah Lord,” he said, the Chief Whip didn’t feel the need to use titles. “I see you’ve made a complete fool of yourself again.”

“It was just high spirits when I was young,” I explained.

“You realise you’re providing him with just the evidence he needs.”

“Him? Who’s him?”

“Lefty Standfast, the leader of the opposition. He has plans to abolish the hereditary peerage. Pictures like this are making the case for him.”

“Replace us? But we’re irreplaceable. The whole idea of an elected second chamber is insane, it would just be filled the wannabee politicians that weren’t good enough to get elected to the Commons. It would be the Welsh Assembly all over again.”

“Didn’t you once stand unsuccessfully as an MP.”

“That was just to gain experience. Training for when I took up my seat in the Lords.”

“No matter. The plan isn’t to replace all peers, just the 96 hereditary peers, with elected representatives from the professions – doctors, the police, lawyers, civil servants, teachers, they’d be able to elect their own representatives, peers elected by their peers.”

“But what will become of me? The peerage is my profession. I don’t have any other trade.”

“Which is why I would like you to invite Mr Standfast to Lord Hall.”

“The loony leftie nutter. Why would I let him near my house?”

“Mr Standfast has a particular love of Gainsborough paintings. I understand you have a pair of Gainsboroughs in your collection.”

“Indeed, but why would I let him anywhere near my private collection. He’d probably try to nationalise them, put them in some gallery where they have the unwashed masses pawing them or gawping at them.”

“It’s a very simple plan, Lord. You give him the Gainsboroughs to look at more closely, and at that point the police arrive and arrest him for attempting to steal them.”

“Is he likely to steal them?”

“That’s hardly the point. I’ve already arranged things with the local police and our friends in the media have already written their articles. He’ll go down as a failed Robin Hood, attempting to steal from the rich and getting caught in the act.”

After my meeting with the Chief Whip I met with Box, and outlined the plan.

“Is that entirely wise, my lord?”

“Well he can hardly scrap the hereditary peerage from prison.”

“But if he’s arrested in suspicious circumstances in the house of one of the hereditary peers it’ll make his supporters more determined. You personally would become the main focus of the opposition’s criticism. They’re be pantsgate-like revelations every day.”

“But I’ve promised the Chief Whip.”

“Let me make the arrangements. I have contacts with the Gainsborough Fan Club I’ll get them to arrange the invitation, that way we’re not traceably involved. Then I can give Standfast the tour while you’re safely out of the way in parliament.”

However, if Box was planning for Standfast to somehow escape arrest, it didn’t work out. Standfast was walking pleasantly round Lord Hall, making pleasant comments about my family collection, when he was suddenly swooped on by six dozen armed policy, who seized him, took the Gainsboroughs off the walls and placed them in Standfast’s hands, for fingerprint and photographic evidence. The online and evening news was full of the story.

The following morning I was woken by Box, with my coffee, toast and toast adornments and, most importantly, the  morning papers.

However, the headlines were not what I expected. “Sorry Mr Standfast,” read the Telegraph, “It’s an Unfair Cop,” read the Sun. 

“What’s this Box, ‘Corrupt police in plot to frame the opposition leader’?”

“It appears that Mr Standfast anticipated the false arrest and had the foresight to place cameras and microphones in the hallway, which proved beyond doubt that he had committed no crime.”

“Is this your doing Box?”

“I had a brief chat with Mr Standfast before his visit. We agreed that the hereditary peerage wasn’t the real enemy.”

“You tipped him off, Box.”

“I just suggested to Standfast that this presented an opportunity. By filming an obvious false arrest he now has the opportunity to attack the police, and he’s suing all of the papers that reported the police lies. In response, he agreed to leave you alone and drop plans to scrap the hereditary peerage.”

“The Chief Whip won’t be happy, Box.”

“The Chief Whip won’t care, he’s much rather Standfast go after the press and police than turning on the peerage. And electorally it’s suicide, attacking hereditary peers is a vote-winner, but nobody likes politicians attacking the police.”

Excellent Box, and not a single mention of pantsgate anywhere. I can enjoy my coffee this morning.