James Delingpole recalls “a beautiful sunny afternoon in the summer of 1985”, where he, a young David Cameron and another James “are sitting cross-legged in an oak-panelled room high above one of Oxford’s grandest college quads stoned out of their brains on marijuana”.

“Check that out!” says Dave. His father’s a wealthy stockbroker; like the other James, he went to Eton; he’s very good at tennis, he’s got a gorgeous girlfriend called Fran and he speaks in the richy, fruity voice of one who knows he is born to rule.

“Check what out?” I say. Of the three, I’m the least posh. I only went to a ‘minor public school’ and I speak with a slight Birmingham accent.

“That amazing drum sound,” says Dave. “Where the beats all go close together and kind of merge into one.”

“Oh yeah. The flam” says James, who knows his music.

“Yeah the flam,” agrees Dave. “Maybe that’s what we should call ourselves: The Flam Club.”

“And what exactly is the purpose of the Flam Club, exactly?” I ask.

“We sit around getting stoned and listening out for the flams on Supertramp albums,” explains Dave.

Read the full account over on Breitbart here…