I didn't expect to like Jacob Rees-Mogg.

To me as a rabid (and often angry) remainer, he is one of the bogeymen of British politics, alongside his colleague, the unspeakable Brexiteering self-publicist, Boris Johnson.

I pitched up early at the Captain's Club in Christchurch an hour early for the event at which he was the guest speaker last Thursday evening.

It was a celebration to mark the 21st anniversary of MP Sir Christopher Chope winning back the seat from the Liberal Democrats at the general election of 1997.

It had been lost in a catastrophic (for the Tories) by-election defeat four years earlier, following the death of Robert Adley.

The Conservative campaign was, as can be imagined, something of disaster, best forgotten by all those involved.

I digress.

I had been promised a chat with Mr Rees-Mogg and at the venue, there was no-one there, apart from a studious-looking chap with glasses sitting, head down at a table in the corner writing earnestly into a journal of some kind.

From 20 yards I did not immediately recognise him.

I spoke to a member of staff and asked where the event was.

"No-one seems to be here yet," I said.

"Just that chap in the corner so far," he replied. "I think you will know him."

Indeed, on closer inspection I realised it was the Member for the Eighteenth Century as he is known in some quarters.

I approached Mr Rees-Mogg and he was effusive in his welcome, courteous and unfailingly polite throughout our ten minute chat, even when I suggested he might be a rich, out of touch, a toff (a hugely original line I am sure you will agree.)

In fact I was the one becoming increasingly irritated at the interruptions as a succession of wellwishers came up to shake his hand and offer good luck in the battle for Brexit.

I shouldn't have been surprised. Christchurch is obviously fervent Leave territory.

During the evening, at which it was fascinating to be a fly on the wall, he worked every one of the 20 or so tables like a pro, stopping to chat and have his picture taken with all those who wanted it.

If he doesn't want to be prime minister, I am a Flying Dutchman, German, Pole or Lithuanian.

It will come as no surprise that I found his 20 minute speech and question and answer session deeply unimpressive, not in its polished delivery but the unconvincing arguments for Brexit - and the fact that the country is currently staring down the barrel.

Of the 120 people in the room, I could see only two who keep their arms folded during the rapturous applause at the end. And I knew I was going to be one of them at the outset.

The Tory party prides itself on two qualities that have sustained it as a formidable force over the years. Ruthlessness and loyalty (when it suits). Slavish devotion, always a dangerous characteristic sometimes makes an appearance.

This was one of those occasions.