Riding Roughshod over the Oiks

I have been canvassing a scruffy council estate tonight with my good hunting friends Nigel, Anastasia and Rupert. We are not allowed to mention our love of killing foxes for pleasure nor wear our hunting gear, but we tried to get the little oiks to vote Tory nevertheless.

I was shocked that none of them were actually going to vote Tory, saying we were just stuck up posh people totally out of touch with reality! How dare they- they shouldn't be allowed to vote! Their houses were so smelly and dingy and one man even told me to "F*** off!" When the Dimpleton on Sea Hunt resumes I shall make a point of trampling through his garden with my hounds in pursuit of Reynard.

After our fruitless pursuit of votes among the proles we retired to my 12th century banquet hall for a feast of pheasant and 300 year old port. Recession, what recession- what what!! Down with oiks and lefties!