Money down the drain
I WONDERED what else Sir Oran had been able to prize out of his position, but with a gulp at his negroni he swept on. 'Fact-finding missions,' he said. 'All-party study groups. Jim and I were on the one that went to Fiji. Consultancies. I'm on the Select Committee on Drainage, so the British Sanitaryware Federation like to make sure that I'm fully informed. They give me a modest retainer, which I put on the register of interests, and decent expens- es on top — travel, you know. . . In fact, they put in the pool here.' Sir Oran paused to help Samantha with her bathing dress. 'And of course my ordinary directorships on top of that. You know, the other day some damn fellow had the cheek to ring up and ask me if I'd put down a question for a thousand pounds. I told him where to get off. Now look here, I said, that's not how these things are done.' Some MPs seemed to have done it, I suggested. 'Bloody fools,' Sir Oran grumbled. 'Price-cutters. No, so long as I keep out of the Government I shall be all right. But this salary business — it's just a bad advertisement. Makes us look selfish, for another £650 a year. Not worth picking up. When I get back I'm going to make a speech, saying that to be an MP is an honour and some of us would be pre- pared to do it without any salary at all. Don't forget to praise my public spirit.'
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