Abel saved this cutting from “Private Eye” for me: a sad story of a Labour MP’s fall from grace in the 1930:

Of course, in this story, the MP had given the tickets to his family, and thus justly had to go. In a version in my imagination, an MP with two teenage daughters only found out about them using his private rail pass when the press showed up at the door, demanding explanations.

Being a gentleman, he claimed that it was his fault, and that he had been the one to have given the tickets to the girls. He resigned at once. And then, when the smoke cleared, he gave a big sigh, took off his public face, and walked upstairs, flexing a riding crop between his hands.

There, in their separate bedrooms, the girls fidgeted, preparing their explanations, knowing that no excuse would ever be good enough.

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