Buying Influence - the Tariff in Full

I can't comment on other allegations regarding people getting meals with famous leaders who were at Brasenose in 1986, of course. Other than to say that in my day, you could sit and eat dinner with David Cameron for about £1.50 at Hall, if he ever turned up - as far as I remember he was mostly to be found hanging around the porter's lodge in Bermuda shorts, clutching a tennis racquet.

But somebody has jumped on the bandwagon to accuse me of secretly selling influence by allowing people to "buy" their chance to have dinner with me. And my response to this is of course robust - what's the point in being secret about it? If it's a secret, I'm seriously cutting down the available market. This is all open and above board - and the rates are as follows:

For £5, you can have half a Kit-kat and choose the first hymn.

For £10, Bernie our "alternative" chef will whip up a nice Roadkill Soufflé. You can choose the first reading and pour out the beakers.

For £50, you can get to choose what wattage the new bulb in the kitchen should be, without all that nasty red tape going through the Property Committee. And Bernie will cook you a nice cheese on toast and he'll wash his hands if he prepares the toastie after cooking a Roadkill Soufflé.

For £150, you can have a Big Mac, and one doctrine of your own choice added to the Beaker Articles of Faith. As long as it's nothing about wombles or anything stupid.

For £250, as well as the Big Mac, you can even include wombles in the Beaker Articles of Faith.

For £500, you get a proper meal, with soup and chips and everything. And you can be Archdruid for the Day. This permits you to wear a pointy hat and push the Beaker People around. Although, needless to say, you don't get to make any proper decisions.

For £1,000 - and if you buy me dinner at the White Horse - I may think very hard about where to award the running of the Beaker Infirmary when the renewal comes up. I'll only think about it, though. No promises.