This week's amusing (albeit arguably libellous) allegations may be grounds for mirth, but I'd caution anyone who actually believes the Prime Minister stuck his todger in a porker to first remember the words of the immortal Hunter S. Thompson, from Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail '72:
This is one of the oldest and most effective tricks in politics. Every hack in the business has used it in times of trouble, and it has even been elevated to the level of political mythology in a story about one of Lyndon Johnson's early campaigns in Texas. The race was close and Johnson was getting worried. Finally he told his campaign manager to start a massive rumor campaign about his opponent's life-long habit of enjoying carnal knowledge of his own barnyard sows.
"Christ, we can't get a way calling him a pig-fucker," the campaign manager protested. "Nobody's going to believe a thing like that."
"I know," Johnson replied. "But let's make the sonofabitch deny it."
I cannot speak to the nature of the bonding rituals of elitist Oxford University drinking societies, but I am fairly sure that Lord Ashcroft, as former treasurer and deputy chair of the Conservative party and being of an age to remember him, has read LBJ's play-book.
What I'm more concerned about is the question of who is supposed to replace Cameron in time to do damage control in the aftermath of the coming fiscal crisis. Theresa May, perhaps?