A New Place Of Exile

Richard Hutton

Category: Reginald Horace

Electoral Diary Of Reginald Horace – 13th April

Bracing start to second week of my campaign. Visited residents association this morning; to discuss the subject of crime. My pledge was outlined as follows:

‘Today, I intend to address a very marked change in the nature of our society. These days, prisons are not merely too soft, but are in fact so soft that the main problem for the guards is not keeping ne’er-do-wells from breaking out, but rather preventing members of the general public from breaking in.

It is an open secret that this has grown to pose a real problem for our justice system. Week in week out – if not day in, day out – there are literally thousands of taxpayers pounding their fists on the jail doors, excavating tunnels under the walls, and disguising themselves as social workers, all in the hope of gaining admittance to this rent-free holiday camp, in order to avail themselves of the luxurious facilities therein. In addition to being able to watch re-runs of Porridge non-stop on enormous flat-screen televisions – without paying the licence fee I might add (not that anyone should be forced to, no matter what the leftists may wish) – but one is able to don slippers and light up a pipe without fear of prosecution, or chides, from the Health and safety and P.C. brigades respectively’.

[An audience member interjected at this point, and asked if I was serious about this. I therefore continued]

‘Of course. In fact, nobody cares more about keeping their local community safe and respectable than I. To put it mildly, I am appalled by the fact that there is a closed-circuit television camera for every fifty citizens in our country. At the very least, we should have one each, and in that way be able to keep close tabs on ourselves (self-discipline is the first step towards self-reliance, in my book) as well as a careful eye on our more questionable neighbours. Crime rates will only drop for good when those suspected of criminality are safely in prison. Our country has a sterling history on this matter. The signatories of Magna Carta would never have stood for any oversight: they would have stated their disapproval – without mincing words. As I have always said ‘if it was good enough for our forefathers 800 years ago, then it’s good enough for me’. They may not have had closed-circuit cameras back then, for all I know; but they certainly had village gossips. There is little difference’.

It was clear that I had given the audience much to think about. Looks often deceive, but not in this case, I think. A roaring success.

Electoral Diary Of Reginald Horace – 12th April

The first week of my campaign drew to a successful close today. Mrs Corinne Stockheath visited; having taken the train up from Surrey. Spent the entire afternoon taking tea with Mrs Horace. On such occasions, I am generally given to fixing household objects outdoors, even when – strictly speaking – they do not require work. Unfortunately, my back has temporarily given out, and I was unable to discrete myself as I wished; so, instead, I busied myself with the right-thinking Sunday news-publications.

Naturally, I paid little attention to what was being discussed between the two women by and by; but I really must commend Mrs Stockheath for delivering a well-aimed riposte to the work-shy layabout who lives next door to her; whose excuse, predictably enough, when asked about not working was some feeble nonsense about having had several strokes, and a mild heart attack during the course of the previous year. It didn’t stop him being out and about, suffice to say. The anecdote revealed much about modern morality. This has been reaffirmed time and time again by experts at the very newspapers I was perusing, of course.

I have certainly never been ill myself – because I had more sense. Besides, if I did spend time on a recovery ward of one kind or another, it has no bearing on the present. (I’ve rubbed against all sorts, in my time. I know a very good joke about the ‘Green Croots Of Recovery’ – but I won’t divulge the details. A man’s battles with the bottle are a private concern). When the conversation between the two women turned to issues best left to women, I affected not to understand their meaning. A touch of fresh air was necessary, so despite my ailment, I decided to take a short walk.

Electoral Diary Of Reginald Horace – 11th April

On the basis of advice which can generously be described as misguided, spent several hours campaigning outside the local youth centre today. Nobody is more keen on edifying the young than I; and serving as an exempler to them, regardless of background. I may not have been born with every advantage in life, but nonetheless I have done tremendously well for myself. I see no reason why juvenile miscreants cannot do likewise.

Instilling the necessary moral fibre is more easily said than done, however. What on earth has happened to today’s youth? At least a score walked past during the course of the afternoon – not one of them wearing a suit. Overheard several remarks which were impertinent in the extreme. There is nothing worse than idle gossip – particularly among those who have probably never done a day’s work in their lives. The only solution to this is to reinstate national service. My own experience is instructive here: solely due to my own efforts, I rose to the rank of private, as fast as the average person would attain the rank of corporal. This is not a boast – simply a statement of fact. If only teenagers these days would begin to pull themselves up by the bootstraps, and learn the virtues of going it alone, they might benefit likewise. But you try and tell this to young people today; and they won’t believe you. What’s more, you are likely to get a plethora of abuse simply for explaining to them that they should shut up. I think that there is little more that anyone can say on the topic at hand; besides the fact that voting before one has reached the age of 18 is rightly out of the question. For the sake of decency, a line must be drawn somewhere.


Electoral Diary Of Reginald Horace – 10th April

Despite being a champion of family values and moral probity, I am not a man of faith – but my wife is. Thankfully she eschews the earnest variety; and prefers instead to ‘make an appearance’ once in a while, so to speak – particularly when one of the more influential personages is reported to be visiting the local church.

Today was one of those rare days when our interests coincided – and rarer still, her hat for the occasion was prepossessing – as I had put a notice about my need for electoral support in the church newsletter. To my horror – and unmitigated embarrassment – a typing error had crept into the message. I will say no more – readers can draw their own conclusions about what this might have been. Several parishioners appeared to have done this of their own accord as it was – and drawn wholly the wrong surmise. I spent the remainder of the assembly avoiding their gazes by leafing through the the book of Job. In my opinion, the Bible tells us very little about life in modern Britain – which is precisely what makes it a good book.

A new vicar since our last visit. Initially, I thought this was for the best – while Reverend Giles was a commendable fellow in some respects, he did have a disagreeable way with some of the female parishioners. I had not anticipated what was to come, however. The sermon today was little more than a working exercise in communism. Why should I sell what I own, and give my money to the poor? I didn’t ask for handouts. I made my own way in life, on my own terms; I didn’t need anyone’s help. If anything, I set the proper Christian example. It can hardly be denied that Jesus did tremendously well for himself in life, after all is said and done – despite coming from the humblest of backgrounds; and having to endure a certain amount of tribulation (at this very time of the year as well, as coincidence would have it).

Character-building stuff – an example to us all. And when was Jesus heard to mention capital gains – or environmentalism? Not once – because he believed in the value of self-sufficiency. He always did the right thing; and made his own way in life. He was a touch more accommodating to the tax authorities than I would care to be, admittedly; but we are none of us perfect – and he knew only too well that the silent majority always carries the day. I would not wish to make the obvious comparison, of course; but if others should draw that inference, and vote accordingly, it would be churlish to object.

Electoral Diary Of Reginald Horace – 9th April

Wrote an open letter to 100 local business leaders, asking to receive their endorsements, prior to eventual publication on the local paper’s front page. Received one reply. It arrived this morning, addressed to Mrs Horace, explaining how to join their mailing list. Of all the indignities. I do wish people would read things properly. Was of a mind to write back, making this very suggestion; but thought better of it. I will certainly be raising it as a topic at the next Rotary meeting, however. A man should never be afraid to acknowledge mistakes in public. Especially other people’s mistakes.

Electoral Diary Of Reginald Horace – 8th April

On the campaign trail today. Set out my stall – in every sense – in the very centre of the city. Brother in law failed to make good his offer of a sturdy table, currently in disuse following the cancelled fete. A venerable decorating table sufficed.

Quite a trial keeping the patriotically-coloured balloons upright – would have been better to use helium, in hindsight. Decided to remove them altogether after a passer-by took note of the red balloons, and made an untoward comment about my cultural leanings. Less than an hour later, my wife had to restrain me, I admit, when one member of a tourist cabal asked me who I was collecting for. I had not followed at first – then realised what he meant.


Unfortunately, this was not the worst of it – one of them accosted me, and made a request which simply beggared belief. I am not as young as I once was, but I could work out on my own what the term ‘selfie-stick’ referred to; and I had no intention of holding somebody’s for them. Certainly not in public. That sort of thing may go on in foreign climes; but not here. I didn’t like to make a fuss, naturally; but we all know that one thing leads to another. ‘This is not Brussels,’ I replied; ‘I will do no such thing’. Regrettably, my wife differed on this point; and the resulting scene was positively mortifying. For once, I was glad the press were absent. The headlines can only be imagined. Decided to call it a day, at this point; rather than tempt fate. The whole incident demonstrates everything that is wrong with this country. It is certainly not what I pay my taxes for. If it is not against the law, then it should at least be considered unBritish.

Electoral Diary Of Reginald Horace – 7th April

7th April

The day was set to start with an auspicious fanfare – lunch at the local tavern; followed by my inaugural speech.

I have opted to record events for the benefit of our nation as a whole. And why should I not? I am constantly hearing about people I have never even heard of – and reading about things I certainly have no interest in reading about. So why shouldn’t I publish my journal and offer some well-chosen observations, likewise; especially when contesting an election of considerable significance? It will hardly be of limited interest: touching as it does upon the great themes of life, work, and success-despite-the-odds. It will undoubtedly acquaint the younger generation with the ways of the world – which is of obvious importance, as one seeks to make one’s way in the self-same.

Unfortunately, engine trouble meant we had to walk in order to avoid being late. More disagreeably still it began to rain just as my wife and I set out – and by the time we arrived, the expected crowd had long since dispersed. Manager was evasive on the subject of the press being absent – despite previous promises he had made on this. Table was not bad – situated very conveniently next to the kitchen; but lunch arrived cold. No matter what the waitress might have said, Beef Wellington is not supposed to be a salad.

Nonethless, my speech was undoubtedly well received by the (appositely named) regulars. For the record, it proved far wittier than even I had imagined; though it comes across somewhat inferior in writing, than it evidently did to the assembled listeners. Practical necessity undoubtedly played a part here. It is a trifle difficult to address contemporary issues adequately, while keeping one eye on posterity. Also, if there is an innate fault with the English language, it is that what is written on the page can often come across as irritable, and even quarrelsome, when it is in fact cordial, insightful, and erudite – amongst many other things besides.

Speech was scheduled to last the full hour; but in the event, fell somewhat short.  Devoted the remaining 45 minutes to a question and answer session. I was asked only one question – and common decency alone means I will not repeat it here. Suffice to say, the rumour is largely inaccurate; and is invariably levelled at those who inspire envy. In response, I played a straight bat, didn’t say anything stupid; and walked away relatively unharmed. But I digress.

As I climbed the lounge podium, I felt the hand of destiny upon my shoulder. Normally reserved for karaoke, today it would herald a new dawn. The full text of my speech ran as follows:

“Ladies and gentlemen – I am a simple man, as those who know me often remark; but despite being a traditional sort of fellow, I can see that we need a new, trouser-hoisting politics; with true hair-on-the-chest leadership. When I have mentioned this previously, many people have suggested that Britain, as one of the most densely populated countries in the world, has no need of further density. Well, to them I say ‘This is where I come in’.

As a self-made man, my life story is more than fitting for political office. In no sense a scientific sample, you understand, but my own upbringing surely serves as an unerring bellweather for right-thinking folk everywhere.

I grew up in the humblest of circumstances, born without advantages in an NHS hospital, before being educated at the local comp., and all the while growing up on a council estate – it is clear that I made my own way in life, without any input from others. I then, entirely through my own efforts, managed to build up a successful business – using nothing more than pluck, and commonsense. And yet now the government has the temerity to tax me as if I owed the nanny state a single penny. I’m sure that all right thinking people will agree that it really is quite disgraceful.

[I would note there were murmurs from the audience at this point. More than one empty glass was raised in salute]

My main policy will be to advance the cause of personal liberty, and clamp-down hard on the Brigades P.C., Human Rights, and Bleeding Hearts respectively – not to mention similar nefarious organizations. What is the Women’s Institute for, incidentally?

It is because of them that England is no longer the country I grew up in. Admittedly, I spent the majority of my formative years in the Costa Blanca; where – foreshadowing our country’s membership of the EU in many ways – the truculent locals would quite deliberately avoid speaking English, despite being perfectly capable of it, I am sure; and instead, disagreeably insist on speaking foreign, much to the chagrin of well-meaning British patriots. But this is beside the point.

Our country is now a bewildering place. Every day I open the paper to find that yet another social grouping have taken umbrage at some relatively mild comment, or well-intended situation. A person can no longer ask for a pint in their local watering hole – instead, they must request 0.56th of a litre. We are no longer allowed to hold nativity plays without at least one member of the cast being female – not that one wishes to encourage alternative lifestyles, as such; nor can we demand that the more confounding sorts keep their disagreeable customs where they belong. What’s more, it is simply impossible to say ‘Christmas’ in polite company, these days. All because the Europeans are unwilling to admit that Jesus was British.

It is why one can no longer give those in one’s employ a sound walloping when they fall short of expected standards – not without a visit from the arbiters of Health and Safety, at any rate. It is why the once proud country of Great Britain has been virtually a communist state since 1979.

The absence of moral fibre in the young is the whole problem – Europe and leftists (along with a few other things) not withstanding. When I was young, I dreamed of being a self-made man. Well, I made my own dreams come true. I didn’t go looking for handouts from the state every five minutes. Instead, I pulled myself up by the drawstring. I didn’t loaf about complaining about inequality – no: because I had better manners than to do so.

I suggest that our country takes this as their model in life from now on. The only people who will object to this eminently sensible scheme will be those who are so consumed by leftist envy that they cannot recognize plain commonsense when they see it. But I do not ask for their votes: I ask for yours”.

I departed the podium at this point. Applause followed. It was suitably restrained, and dignified.

The Electoral Diary Of Reginald Horace

Having tired of pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey politics, I have decided to throw my towel into the ring, and today announce my campaign for a seat in Parliament.

As a self-made man, who has made his own way in the world, it is only natural that I should become a Parliamentarian: my ideas are at least as good as anyone else’s; and my life experience is more fitting than most.

I have opted to stand as an independent candidate. This is due to several reasons. Foremost among these, it is because I believe in the virtues of self-sufficiency. To a lesser extent, an unfortunate misunderstanding in my past – which we will not go into here – proved a secondary encouragement, for both me and the political party I initially considered representing (“What are ‘expense-irregularities’ anyway?”, we might well ask).

I may be a traditional sort of fellow; but even I can see that we need a new politics. The only solution to present circumstances is to advance the cause of liberty, using British common-sense.

It is undoubtedly best to prepare the ground thoroughly, and outline my reasons for seeking political office. I have taken the trouble to outline my general thinking on this, and fashion it into a manifesto. I was initially tempted to call this the ‘Danifesto’, as it aims to counteract the Dante’s Inferno-esque nature of modern Britain; but decided that people can sup this particular cup of sulphuric from the headlines in tabloid newspapers easily enough.


My Manifesto For An Independent UK


Education policy will be largely formulated around my own upbringing. I attended the Ayn Rand Academy For Up And Comers. It’s motto is with me still: ‘Education, Education, and Social Advancement – Always In A Tasteful Manner’. The syllabus will instill valuable life-lessons which all young folk would do well to take on board; while the curriculum will train people in the virtues of self-sufficiency. I learned this lesson only too well. What use would the free-school meals have been, for instance, without possession of a sound digestive system to begin with? Beyond school, I received little formal education, but have found that skim-reading the papers now and then is a very good way to compensate for this lacuna. Chief among the many lessons I have learned is that trying to understand complex issues only serves to undermine the whole point of ignoring them in the first place. Therefore intellectual humbuggery will be replaced with a sound schooling in commonsense and British values. With this in mind, University education will be reformed to centre on the three r’s: British values, commonsense, and gumption. Higher education as a whole will be reformulated to give people the skills that business needs: university types will practice how to read relevant manuals, and learn which buttons not to press.


I have a long-term economic plan: the economy will reward hard-working folk, as is only right and proper; rather than the workshy, and other decadent elements. The minimum wage will be tied to the price of a pint. There will be little need for taxation – business leaders are naturally altruistic sorts; who will gladly pay the chaps (and where applicable, chapesses) as much as they can. This will suffice. Child poverty can be eliminated very easily by the simple expedient of a paper-round. This would have the added benefit of clamping down on the childhood obesity epidemic, which has spread throughout this country like wildfire due to the machinations of the nanny state.


Town-square stocks will be reintroduced – these will allow communities to recycle old fruit and vegetables; while imbuing the young with moral fibre. Objections to this can be presumed to originate with the left – and solely because they dislike the prospect of fibrous morals developing among the young.


Policy will be based around the principle ‘what would a man do in these circumstances?’. For example, maternity leave. If pregnancy was a man’s issue, it is safe to say we would give birth on time, and within budget. Half a paracetamol – perhaps two-halves, depending on which part of the country somebody hails from (e.g. Norfolk) and back to work before the afternoon is out. Since sexual equality is the watchword of our time, women can manage likewise.


Traffic wardens will be trained to exercise commonsense; and reward hardworking people with the select use of blind-eyes. A commonsense approach will also be applied to bus lanes – by situating them underground.


I pledge to make unlawful behaviour a criminal offence. Policy will centre on a preventative strategy: should we really wait until a crime has been committed before acting? If we’re honest with ourselves, isn’t it the case that we normally know well in advance who is likely to commit a criminal offence? According to experts in the papers, modern scientific profiling allows us to say with 99% certainty that any person who is young, listens to ‘rap’ music, and plays computer games, is on the low road to no good. I say that prevention is the better part of cure; and we should have the courage to nip a future of anti-social delinquency in the bud. Bleeding-heart liberals will no doubt moan about the odd miscarriage of justice – and suggest that punishing people before a crime has been committed is a shade on the harsh side – but right thinking people will agree that anyone called ‘Darren’ or ‘Shaz’ should – in the interests of us all – be locked-up from day one.


The decent among us should have more of a say over how society is run.

European Union

A referendum on this is vital. Referenda are necessary because they enable everyone who doesn’t know what they are voting for to have a say in their own political future. This is why Scotland recently voted down the Law of Gravity, for instance.


God, like the rest of us, is against the EU.

Alternative lifestyles

While these will not be prohibited as such, they will be discouraged. To this effect, guidelines will be issued on how to spot the warning signs, and – accordingly – steer well clear. ‘It is better to be safe than sorry’ will be the watchword here – though any involvement of the Health and safety brigade should be considered a step too far, for day-to-day purposes.

It really is high-time that Right-minded folk were allowed to take control of things, given the mess that has been made of our country since 1979, by the endless parade of communists. With this in mind, I now begin my journey to Parliament.