Did David Cameron have any inappropriate conversations with Jeremy Clarkson?

Mr Clarkson is a member of the Chipping Norton set, in which there is now such close interest, for Rebekah Brooks, the former chief executive of News International, and Mr Cameron also belong to it.
The Prime Minister sought to reassure MPs about his links with Mrs Brooks: “I’ve never held a slumber party or seen her in her pyjamas.” But Dennis Skinner (Lab, Bolsover) has a suspicious mind, and wished to know whether Mr Cameron had ever discussed “the BSkyB bid with News International at all the meetings they attended”.
This enquiry by the Beast of Bolsover produced a most unhappy reply from the Prime Minister: “I never had one inappropriate conversation.” The Beast had drawn blood, or had at least identified a tender part of Mr Cameron’s anatomy which other Labour MPs queued up to bruise.
The Prime Minister was at length driven to insist, rather ingeniously: “All my conversations are appropriate.” This indicates that Mr Cameron can never have spoken to Mr Clarkson, one of the great vulgarians of our time, who has only ever been known to hold inappropriate conversations.
Mr Cameron referred to the history of vexed relations between politicians and press barons which “stretches from Beaverbrook to Rothermere to Murdoch”. Perhaps the Prime Minister should recall, in this connection, what his predecessor, Stanley Baldwin, said of Beaverbrook and Rothermere: “I care not what they say or think. They are both men I would not have in my house.”

The time has surely come for Mr Cameron to make a new set of friends, consisting of the Archbishop of Canterbury, Sir Cliff Richard, Tim Henman and a number of maiden aunts, with whom to enjoy the innocent pleasures of morning prayer and afternoon tea.
The Prime Minister did at one point declare: “I have an old-fashioned view about innocent until proven guilty.” That is an excellent starting point. It is not too late for Mr Cameron get in touch with his old-fashioned side, strike a note of Anglican asperity about the more depraved aspects of our culture, and become once more the rising hope of the stern, unbending Tories.
Mr Cameron ended his statement on a properly penitent note: “You live and you learn, and believe you me I have learned.”
Ed Miliband began his response with a few minutes of statesmanship, during which he welcomed various measures taken by the Prime Minister.
We waited patiently for the but, or in this case for the bite: Mr Miliband being the kind of attack dog for whom the burden of statesmanship rapidly becomes insupportable. However well he begins, the Leader of the Opposition soon starts gnashing his teeth and digging up the flower beds, emitting yelps of excitement as he hunts for a juicy bone, or conspiracy theory, to seize in his jaws.
Mr Miliband proceeded to develop an elaborate airport-thriller-style scenario about Andy Coulson, the former editor of the News of the World who went to work for Mr Cameron, which ended with the Prime Minister “caught in a tragic conflict of loyalty”.
There is no need for such complications. Mr Cameron took a risk and it did not come off. But if Mr Cameron never gambled he would never have become Tory leader. The raffish side of his character is actually one of the things that makes him such a considerable politician: more Disraeli than Baldwin.