Horsegate continued

The media continues to have fun, now that Cameron has admitted riding Raisa.  The Telegraph pictures the scene:

One perception ratified here is that of the Chipping Norton set comprising the smuggest elite corps of jeunesse dorée available at the time to humanity. It is all too easy to imagine them revelling in their own resplendence in the Brooks kitchen one Christmas evening. Picture this everyday story of country folk as the then Leader of the Opposition chops the onions, and Rebekah warms her buns against the top oven of the Aga. Matthew Freud and Elisabeth Murdoch are spreading the beluga they brought in lieu of a bottle of merlot over the Ritz crackers, while Jeremy Clarkson jingles his jester’s bell with some side-splitters about why Mr Cameron should nuke Belgium and reintroduce child slavery on his first day in No 10. SamCam presents a personalised Smythson black leather-bound diary to James Murdoch, whom Jeremy hilariously berates as “a great big poof” for driving a Prius, and the chatter turns to matters equestrian. “David, why won’t you ever join me on a hack?” Rebekah coquettishly asks. “I’d love to,” he replies, “but I’m hopeless and petrified of being thrown.” “Well, I’m sure I heard someone talking about retired horses at the Sun Police Bravery Awards,” says Rebekah. “One of those would be perfect. I’ll get my PA to ring John Yates. Yatesy’ll sort it. It’s not as if he has anything else on his plate.” How they all chuckle at that. 

 How like our own Christmas experiences (or not).