You know that old guy who sits in the corner of the pub waiting for someone to buy him a pint, so he can rant on about the state of the country; well, that isn’t Lordwilmore. Lordwilmore is his better groomed, less informed and poorly educated son, who spends most of the day staring in the mirror, sipping a glass of sherry, wrapped in the warmth of his semi-imported Japanese kimono. What he lacks in common sense and fact; he makes up for in self-appointed all knowingness. This man knows his stuff…..at least he thinks he does. Just humour him. What he really wishes for is the days when women were women and men discussed the state of the empire in cigar smoke filled rooms, where the only women were the ones you paid to be there.
Unable to find a venue such as this in the 21st century, he has turned his attention that new fangled contraption for communication; the t’internet. The possibility of an audience in the dozens was all that was required to snare this cranky soul.
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