Now, listen, it’s jolly obvious that none of that is true, as I actually joined a club of people who understood that money had no great importance, and spent a lot of time appreciating fine wines. Or spent time appreciating a fine lot of wine. It was something like that, as far as I can remember. Take no notice of my fine friend, Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson, who says the Bullingdon club was “a truly shameful vignette of almost superhuman undergraduate arrogance, toffishness and twittishness”. He forgets that we would generously give the ashes of fifty pound notes to beggars, and besides, good friend though he has always been, he is a bit Turkish in origin, and can’t really be trusted at all, about anything.
Because Oxford showed everyone how clever I was, I became a member of the Conservative Party. And I was elected as an MP, for Witney, a place that had previously had a Labour MP in 1999. The country clearly needed me, and I soon became leader of the Conservative Party, and then Prime Minister. That’s the most important job of all, so the country was jolly lucky to get me. And, you know, I was jolly pumped by all that, and went around making lots of pledges, vows, and promises. When the time came, and I hadn’t fulfilled any of them, I simply had all trace of them deleted from the Internet. [3] After I explained how this would help to clear up the mess I claimed Labour had made, especially the financial disaster they caused, not bankers, everyone was very pleased.
You can’t keep all the chaps happy all the time, of course, and a large part of my united Conservative Party hated Europe, and had been complaining about it ever since we went in, in 1975. [4] I was keen to unite my wonderful party, and decided to call an advisory referendum, in order to show these chaps who was the boss. Letting the public imagine they are having a democratic choice about things was an awfully wizard wheeze. I was bound to win this one, you see. Then everyone would unite behind me, preferably without their usual knives, and all would be well within my Europe. Gosh, I was jolly pumped!I wasn’t too bothered by the shocking lies being told by the frog-faced fellow, Garage (ghost writer, please check this name) and good old Boris, and completely unconcerned by the way some quite nasty racists were joining in with the #Brexit campaign, as they were calling it. Naturally, it would have been undemocratic of me to intervene, and attempt to counteract their lies in any way, especially as they pointed out that we didn’t need any experts warning us about the dire consequences of leaving.
On June 24th, I found that the public had betrayed me, as a quarter of them had voted to leave the EU, in spite of me doing almost nothing at all to explain all the huge advantages of staying in.
So, rather than bothering to sort out the utter mess I had made, I just resigned to spend more time with my money.
The End.
[1] Lord Ashcroft’s book that Isabel Oakeshott wrote for him.
[2] Wikipedia: The Bullingdon Club
[3] Rewriting history to make me look super.
[4] The Tory split on Europe.
We had a roast-in-the-bag duck crown in the freezer, but I wanted to feed the three of us, so I bought a couple of extra duck breasts. These Gressingham duck items seem to be in most UK supermarkets, and they are rather good. I also didn’t want to have all the faff of cutting the duck off the bones after it was 
cooked, so I decided to remove all the bones before starting, and combine all the meat into a single roast. On the left, you can see what is inside the roasting bag. The legs, and the tail end have gone to other customers. I often use the leg joints for confit duck.
Anyway, I sharpened my boning knife, and set to… here I have cut away the wings, and started to separate the breast from the rib cage, taking care not to cut the skin.
By this point, the rib cage, spine, and shoulder bones have gone into the stock pot, along with the wings, and are being boiled up for a lovely stock. The whole thing is a bit untidy, as this was the first attempt at this task, so I cut off the untidy edges, and rendered the fat from them, to add to my collection of duck fat. 
When I have enough, I will be able to do confit duck legs again.
The picture shows the second try, because the first time I did it, the two separate duck breasts slid out as I tightened the knots. It probably wasn’t as funny as I thought…
Here it is, in the handy aluminium tray that was supplied with the duck crown. I inserted a thermometer probe into the duck, as I didn’t want to ruin it by overcooking it. Anything over 50ºC would do that, according to the online sources I looked at. That’s 122ºF, if you are cooking in old money, as I believe some
countries do. I roasted it at 180ºC until the thermometer started beeping, and took it out of the oven to rest while I cooked the vegetables. The heat in the outer parts of the duck were conducted to the centre, and I was quite worried as it achieved a core temperature of 55ºC during that time, with no additional heat.
time I try this. Overall, though, I was very pleased with this meal. The sauce was a chicken gravy from the store cupboard (Bisto, since you ask) flavoured with some hoi-sin sauce. New potatoes, sweetcorn, and soya beans were good, too.
Here are some of the things I used to make a recent lasagne. It’s fairly hard to see, but there’s a bowl of home grown garlic at the back, on the right. Just push garlic cloves that are too small to bother peeling into the ground. A few months later, they will have multiplied enormously, and somehow pulled themselves down until they are six inches underground. I have no idea how they manage to do that, but they do. I must remember to ask my favourite botanist, if he ever visits us.
This is the humble, yet powerful, Oxo cube that I used, to flavour the rather insipid looking beef mince. Some people tear the foil off, and crumble the cube with their fingers. Try this… Pull the little flaps out as shown, and hit the cube a couple of times 
with your palm, until it is flattened. Now you can just rip it and tip the powdered Oxo straight into the pan. Isn’t that clever? I would credit the source of the tip, if I could remember it.
That meat will need to be browned properly, of course, before you carry on making the sauce, but you know that, don’t you? I wasn’t following a recipe, just doing what seemed likely to be the way I have made lasagne before.
Now some recipes have you put layers of sauce in with the layers of meat and pasta. I don’t do that, mainly because it increases hugely the amount of sauce you will need, and tends to make the final dish sloppy. I have been known to put in layers of grated cheese, and that can work quite well, but this lasagne didn’t have any.
ends up knowing how to do without measuring things. A lump of butter of a certain size. A big, but not too big, spoonful of flour. Do not forget Colman’s mustard powder, about half a teaspoonful. It’s not enough to make the sauce taste mustardy, but it will seem dull if you forget to put it in. 
The butter and flour have to be cooked until there is what one recipe book describes as a “biscuity smell”.
cheese. Please use a decent Cheddar, not soapy cheap stuff.
picture, along with a salad that miraculously appeared while the lasagne was cooking.