Dope isn't a problem; it's the "Bulller" membership that still irks me. I suppose I'll get over it one of these days, but I can't bring myself to trust anyone who signed up for that circus.
He joined the Bullingdon Club while still residing in the college, which suggests that it was during his first year.To be invited to join "Buller" so early in your Oxford career, you have to know the right people and be generally thought of as a good chap, suggesting that older Etonian members (and there were rarely more than 20 all told) had already tipped him as being made of the right stuff to join.
... The Bullingdon Club, satirised by Evelyn Waugh as the Bollinger Club in Decline and Fall, is not the naughtiest club in Oxford. The Assassins is more eccentric, the Piers Gaveston more erotic and the Stoics more emetic. But Buller is the most solidly, reassuringly, predictably, ritualistically naughty of the dining societies. Over 150 years, it has evolved from a club devoted to the pleasures of hunting things and playing cricket, into a club devoted to breaking things and passing out and dinners that cost £100 a head and more.
Brasenose contemporaries say Mr Cameron was a fringe member of the sub-species Bullingdon Man. And paradoxically, Bullingdon chaps disapprove of smoking cannabis on or before evenings out, on the logical grounds that a relaxed and philosophical member, his faculties soothed and enhanced by tetrahydrocannabinol, lacks the cutting edge necessary for a really decent session of wanton havoc.
The ex-Buller man said: "But if you are the sort of person who will happily smash up a restaurant and then pay for the damage in cash afterwards, I don't suppose you are going to baulk at taking drugs the rest of the time."
Check out the photograph of our future rulers posing in evening wear. Hilarious.
MORE: You don't have to be a class warrior to find the Buller boys a pain. Here's a thundering op-ed by Libby Purves that I've linked to before.
YET MORE: Cristina Odone piles in too:
It was more Bacchanalian feast than Brideshead Revisited, and I wondered what kind of a future lay in store for 20-year-olds who thought nothing of wrecking a Michelin-starred restaurant after having spent £1,000 a head there.