Letter from the Dreaming Spires ... High Commissioner to the UK speaks at the Union ... A sprinkling of rapt Young Tories ... Car alarm competing for attention ... Jolly John Kerr told him Betty Windsor was in the clear ... Later rooftop revelries ... Barely Legal reports
Of all the world's courts and boardrooms, parliaments and conference halls, which debating chamber is the fairest of them all? Westminster Palace, the mother of democracy? Or the US Senate, perhaps?
Wrong. The right answer, stuffed between a doughnut shop and a taco bar, is a Georgian replica of the House of Commons somewhere in southeastern England – the famous Dreaming Spires Union.
This debating and speechifying club, founded in the 1830s and operated by the students of Dreaming Spires University, is Britain's finest contribution to the global output of hot air.
Or so say the tumble of lawyers, judges, diplomats and politicians who rush here to make their speeches whenever the Union president – usually a pimply PPE student – favours them with an invitation.
Former law lord Leonard Hoffman was almost in tears when he came to the despatch box last month.
He'd attended Union debates as a student, he said. "But I never thought I'd take the opportunity to stand up and say something." Now, 62 years later, he had the "honour" and the "delight" of making his very first speech.
And a fine speech it was, in which his Lordship argued the courts should throw out "test cases" brought by equality-fiends and climate-change activists, since parliament was already doing a brilliant job at creating "social justice".
Even Australians gush like well-behaved children when invited to the Union – even our own man in London, former AG and bookshelf-lover George Brandis, whose Union debut I attended last week.
Some Union speakers are like a new iPhone launch, attracting queues of eager auditors and hours of waiting. Often the reward for those who make it in is crush-conditions.
To my relief, bookish George caused no such difficulties. His audience – a dozen tuxedo-clad young Tories, a crop of his own advisors, some Australians and the Union's security guard – were very comfortable in the first few rows of seating.
As he began, our orator was barely continent of his excitement: "This is my first time addressing the Union," he announced. "I never quite worked up the courage to make a speech when I was a student here."
His Excellency then lavished his listeners with memories of the early '80s, back when William Hague, future Tory failure and self-sabotaging baseball-cap wearer, was president of the debating Union.
"I remember thinking this was the best debater I had ever seen," George reminisced. "Of course he had a thick golden mane then."
"He wasn't the only one." There were a few uncertain laughs as our speaker gestured to his own scalp. Somewhere on the High Street, a car alarm started going off.
What followed was a disquisition on liberalism, the wonders of Thatcherite-Reaganism and the freedom, equality and progress ushered in by the last 40 years of market-based utopia.
These remarks, the self-dividing High Commissioner assured us, were made by George Brandis the private individual, not George Brandis the government dogsbody.
Perhaps that explains why there was no mention of freedom on Christmas Island; or equality in the remote Northern Territory; or progress (if there has been any) on slashing the rampant emissions of market economies.
Then came audience questions. A bow-tie-wearer was desperate to hear the inside story of George's great policy achievement - same sex marriage.
His Excellency had spent most of his "political capital" to get it done, we heard. He'd overcome bigotry on his own side of politics and Catholic unionists on the other.
And he'd corralled the gay community itself, facing down "catty" and "vicious" division and activists who "didn't want same sex marriage to happen" so they could keep playing the "victimhood card".
Any listener unacquainted with the turpid plebiscite years would have concluded our speaker had single-handedly brought equal marriage into existence.
Bookshelves Brandis at Oxford meeting up with the Mad MonkThere was also a question about the dismissal - and whether Australia should become a republic to prevent a repeat occurrence.
On this, George had insider knowledge: he'd become "good friends" with John Kerr, he told us, in the guzzling GG's declining days.
From Sir John's assurances, Brandis was certain the Queen had "absolutely nothing to do" with the dismissal. And anyone in Australia who said otherwise had "no idea what they were talking about". Somewhere on the other side of the world, Jenny Hocking's ears started burning.
At last, to polite applause, his Excellency left the building. His advisors tapped a few young Tory lickspittles to accompany the Commissioner to a "drinks reception".
I'm reliably informed that, when the Union bar closed, a nostalgic George departed with his entourage to relive his student glories – and was spotted around midnight on the rooftop level of a downtown nightclub.