Nickie Muir: Being ruled out of a club not that bad

Former British Prime Minister David Cameron

I've had a bad history with clubs - either not being invited to the cool ones or getting myself expelled from the rest.

Some clubs just shouldn't exist or are just oxymoronic and plain creepy.

Collectively I've had the dubious distinction of getting asked to leave: a kindergarten, Girl Scouts, the confirmation class at my Catholic girls' school, the Wimmins' action group at uni and, if extracting yourself before getting asked to leave counts, the ante-natal class I attended with the mad Latin.

I've certainly never belonged to clubs that involve maintaining a positional advantage in society by bonding over really weird stuff. The likelihood of me being invited into any Tory drinking clubs is nil, so I can't even guess whether or not the allegations of Cameron - whose icon of right-wing hipsterism is Mr Key, are anything more than the senile rumblings of an ex-MP who couldn't get as much leverage from his old drinking companion as he felt entitled to.

Maybe it's a girl thing but - I don't really get it. Private parts and a dead pig's head just don't sound like a good night out to me but hey, no judgement.

Being a girl automatically excludes me from the male drinking fraternity whose Latin motto roughly translates as "Truly I don't remember that any man has loved another like this".

Which just goes to show what pretentious prats they are - the Piers Gaveston club was only formed in 1977 and who spoke Latin then? For more insight I had to go to that great satirist Evelyn Waugh who wrote about just such drinking clubs of privileged princes of the realm whose main reason for existence appears to be to despise poor people and their ordinary lives. In Decline and Fall Waugh writes of one such club: "At the last dinner, three years ago, a fox had been brought in a cage and stoned to death with champagne bottles. What an evening that had been. This was the first meeting since then, and from all over Europe old members had rallied for the occasion.

"For two days they had been pouring into Oxford: epileptic royalty from their villas of exile; uncouth peers from crumbling country seats; smooth young men of uncertain tastes from embassies and legations; illiterate lairds from wet granite hovels in the Highlands; ambitious young barristers and Conservative candidates torn from the London season and the indelicate advances of debutantes; all that was most sonorous of name and title was there for the beano."

God knows what the beano is but it sounds like the sort of do that Dotcom or Max Key would tweet about. Or perhaps something like the "Princess parties" organised by Nat party insiders as outlined in Dirty Politics. There are times when it is great to be a woman and a working-class leftie to be exempt before one would have to expel oneself.