Picture the scene. A teenage Jeremy Hunt stands in his family living room, which looks like it’s been the target of a drone strike.
Windows are broken, there are empty bottles and cans everywhere, cigarettes stubbed out on the carpet and the coffee table now features a scratch that even the finest french polishers in the Yellow Pages would struggle to repair.
“Mother, I’ll be honest with you, there was a party here last night,” Young Jeremy says, an enormous red wine stain on his shirt.
