So little Billy goes to school, and he sits down and the teacher says, “What does your father do?” And little
Billy says, “My father plays the piano in an opium den.” So the teacher rings up the parents, and says,

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“Very shocking story from little Billy today. Just heard that he claimed that you play the piano in an opium
den.” And the father says, “I’m very sorry. Yes, it’s true, I lied. But how can I tell an eight-year-old boy that
his father is a politician?”

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Now, as a politician myself, standing in front of you, or indeed, meeting any stranger anywhere in the
world, when I eventually reveal the nature of my profession, they look at me as though I’m somewhere
between a snake, a monkey and an iguana, and through all of this, I feel, strongly, that something is going

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wrong. Four hundred years of maturing democracy, colleagues in Parliament who seem to me, as
individuals, reasonably impressive, an increasingly educated, energetic, informed population, and yet a
deep, deep sense of disappointment.