Have you ever played a party game called “Margaret Thatcher’s dinner party”? It may have other names. Each guest must think of a famous person, alive or dead, fictional or real, of whom the whole group will have heard. Everyone then goes out of the room, one by one, to whisper the name they’ve come up with to a designated host who writes them all down and then reads them out to the group. The aim of the game is to guess who thought of which name, the last person guessed being the winner. Remembering all the names is surprisingly hard, particularly if heavy drinking is encouraged.

The key to victory is in your choice of name: it has to be well known but also somehow forgettable. A name that, when read out, will hardly be remarked upon. Not a surprising blast from the past, not the man or woman of the moment, but someone blandly in between. A name that can pass, without friction, into and then out of people’s brains. Which brings me to the Tory leadership contenders.

I’m sure they’d all love to have been invited to a dinner party by Margaret Thatcher – though not of course one of the ones that was attended by Jimmy Savile. But one of the other ones with Norman Tebbit and Cecil Parkinson and, I don’t know, Lulu. Those were the days, they must all have been thinking last week as they shlepped round the Tory conference in Birmingham desperately trying to drum up a sense of excitement about themselves. But what wonderful ideas for Margaret Thatcher’s dinner party they are! Robert Jenrick, James Cleverly and........

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