For more than thirty years I have managed rather well on being plain Mr Mark Westain, but last Christmas an extraordinary thing happened. I was knighted and was elevated to the ranks of Britain’s nobility as Lord Mark. Curiously this did not require a trip to Buck House and according to the rather underwhelming paperwork that arrived in a flimsy silver envelope, advising me of my change in status, the trick had been performed by the Reverend Thomas Green, an officer of a Chivalric Order, The Order of the Black Ermine and the Britannic Order of St George. Now I am not naturally a modest man, but even I had some difficulty if thinking what possible good works I had performed to cause me to be thus elevated. I decided that Lord Mark should belatedly attend to the sort of good works that befitted his new station in life. So I sought out the Order to discuss my obligations in more detail.
My membership documentation gave no contact details for the Grand Master, Maurice Holland, but it did list the Order’s web site (www.orderoftheblackermine.moonfruit.com/) which put me in touch with his son Richard by phone. A long but uninformative telephone call with this very plausible young man left me little the wiser. The inconveniently sited Lodges in Aberdeen and Aberystwyth proudly advertised on the Order’s web site seemed not actually exist, despite having both telephone and fax numbers. I began to wonder whether Richard’s last job as a telephone number salesman might explain this apparent contradiction. Neither was there any local meeting point in the West Midlands for the thousands of charitable Lords and Ladies that the Order has created since it opened it’s doors to membership four years ago. The Order’s website advised me that membership is exclusively via the internet auction site eBay and only via Lordships4U, an account operated by local man, Richard Holland, of Lichfield. I felt my Lordly bones stirring and calling for my squire and trusty steed (photographer and Renault Clio) I saddled up and headed over to Lichfield.
On reaching Lichfield and finding nobody at home at Number 5, my squire proposed retiring to the Turks Head to sample some Staffordshire Ale, which seemed an excellent idea at the time. Hoping for some of the executive service the Richard promises to members, or a waiving of the charge altogether, I introduced myself as Lord Mark and thus managed to reduce the entire bar to incontinent, sobbing gales of laughter in a way that I have never achieved before by more conventional means. “What did I say”, I asked Pauline the barmaid. “Don’t take it personally”, she said with a sympathetic twinkle, “but everyone round here is a Lord” “We all got caught. I’m a Lady!” Pauline proceeded to fill me in on the local larger-lout telephone salesman who struck it lucky with eBay and “moved up in the world” in the way that none of his customers could ever hope to. “First he was selling Lairdships” said Pauline. You buy a square foot of land and become Laird of that land. “But people soon realised he had barely the price of a round, let alone a spare Scottish Estate. His next scam was creating Lunar Lairds of his estate on the moon – Lunartopia, but you would have to be a genuine lunar-tic to believe that Richard Holland owned land on the moon. So, proving that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, particularly if you left school at 16 with 2 GCSEs, he stole his latest Chivalric Order idea from the genuine "Order of the Black Ermine”. “You have to admire his cheek” says Lord Fred, who has joined us at the bar and proceeded to fill us in on the background. It seems that there are several real Orders of Chivalry, membership of which does entitle you to have letters after your name and a genuine title. But these are real Orders, with real members who meet in real Temples and undertake real work of a charitable nature. I was even more eager to meet with Telephone Boy than ever. Supping up, my squire and I squeezed back into our noble steed and set off once more for Newbold Close.
This time the door was opened by Richard’s wife, who looked less than happy as I introduced myself a Lord Mark. We waited patiently on the doorstep as she returned to the sitting room to consult with the Grand Master’s exulted son, her loud whispered “It’s another of those f***ing Lords. Get rid of them” doing nothing to reassure me. But next moment I relaxed. Richard, rather short but slim and sporting a neat skinhead military style haircut appeared and warmly shook me by the hand. “Lord Mark” he exclaimed “What a pleasure”. “Perhaps we can go somewhere else to talk. It’s my daughter’s bed time, I’m sure you understand”.
Back in the Turks Head I lost no time in pouring a few lagers down Richard’s well practiced throat and once lubricated properly Richard was very happy to fill me in. He had started small, selling old clothes, soft porn, fake degree certificates and other saleable items, when he was sacked from his last telephone sales job in Birmingham. Most of his turnover was on eBay and he soon realised that a big seller on eBay was the Noble Titles. “You can earn hundreds of thousands in a year” he said with a broad grin relaxing his face “and all without VAT”. Why would anyone work again? “But what about the people you deceive?”. “You don’t actually own any land in Scotland or a real Order of Chivalry”. But Richard’s philosophy was very simple. “There are wolves and there are sheep” says Richard. “The trick is to be a wolf”.
With such a straightforward approach to life, it is clear that Richard has no plans to change. The money has not made him abandon his day job (He runs a small franchise selling on behalf of the Intelgroup, called Telecoms Audit Bureau Ltd), but he freely admits that he could not support his lifestyle on what he earns from his legitimate business.
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