I am always suspicious when the word ‘aristocrat’ finds its way into the press. Usually, the person in question is not an aristocrat at all, but a common-or-garden public school boy with a tenuous link to a baronet’s sister-in-law. But with last week’s exposé of Nigel Farage’s convicted fraudster adviser George Cottrell, we have a proper one. Cottrell is the grandson of a peer, Rupert Watson, 3rd Baron Manton, and the nephew of two others, the former Tory treasurer turned Ukipper Alexander Fermor-Hesketh, 3rd Baron Hesketh, and the former Life Guards officer Milo Watson, 4th Baron Manton. His mother was briefly romantically involved with the then-Prince Charles. Reading about Cottrell in the Sunday Times, I was reminded of Sydney Freeman-Mitford, Baroness Redesdale’s line: ‘whenever I see the words “peer’s daughter” in a headline, I know it’s going to be something about one of [my] children.’ 

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The aristocracy is no stranger to black sheep. Indeed, it has perfected the art of producing them – from marquesses that splurged their fortune on chorus girls to eccentric baronets prone to wearing six coats at a time. And so when people like Cottrell emerge, it’s no huge surprise. Indeed, you might ask, hasn’t the aristocracy always been a bit dodgy? Well, maybe – but, I’d argue, no more than any other group. We just know more about it, thanks to Fleet Street’s intermittent obsession........

© The Spectator