My mother and I were listing places in the country where we'd never been, and so of course I mentioned Norfolk, which remains terra incognita for me. My mother on the other hand visited in 1939, when she went to see her newly-married sister and brother-in-law in King's Lynn. They visited nearby Sandringham while she was there, and she tells me that she was struck by the number of men in the village who looked exactly like Edward VII. You'd swear there was a family resemblance, apparently. This is the kind of thing that doesn't make it into conventional histories, so I set it down here for us all to ponder upon.
(Meanwhile, the blatant way in which the latest wodge of cronies has bribed its way into the House of Lords has been remarked on even by the BBC.)