When sharp carrots and rotten cabbages were thrown at Worcester's MP

But one thing’s for sure, the gig won’t be a patch on the old days. With no hint of understatement, a Berrow’s Worcester Journal observer once described election night along High Street as a “saturnalia of infamy”. And that was likely putting it mildly.

In the 1700s the hustings were only for the brave – or the foolhardy. Back then election meetings were noisy, violent and riotous events. When candidates took to the platform brick ends, broken bottles, cabbages, bad eggs and other pieces of rubbish were habitually thrown about and if the crowd was not volatile enough, party organisers were there to crank up the atmosphere.

Worcester Guildhall where election results have traditionally been announced, decked in bunting and flowers in 1902 to celebrate the end of the Boer War. (Image: Newsquest)

Of course, the newspapers loved it and at the 1784 election – which lasted for 15 days incidentally – it was reported that in Worcester there were “hideous scenes of debauchery and drunkenness” and the city “completely surrendered itself to a saturnalia of infamy”.

One description of a Worcestershire general election meeting of the era ran: “At eleven o’clock John Bompers with many friends, began to throw cabbages and carrots about in front of the hustings. Many people were struck by these missiles and either left the place or retaliated by throwing them back at Bompers and his friends.

By 1832 Worcester Guildhall was in a bad way and a competition was held to design a new one. This is a are sketch of the winning entry by Christopher Wray. After much debate, the City Council decided to renovate what it had. (Image: Christopher Bray)

“Eventually, Bompers being struck in the eye by the sharp end of one of his own carrots, violently assaulted the thrower, a gentleman called Eustace, and a free fight ensued. Soon everybody in the neighbourhood joined in and pandemonium prevailed.”

The winner of the election was usually the candidate who had the most money available to rally support. A process underlined by the shenanigans surrounding the 1835 election in Worcester when the person elected, a rich Tory ironmaster called Joseph Bailey, didn’t even set foot in the city until after the votes had been counted.

Another entry in the 1872 competition by national architect Alfred Waterhouse. (Image: Alfred Waterhouse)

A petition was raised alleging widespread corruption, claiming that 41 paupers had been brought in to vote, two people had been impersonated (one was already dead by polling day) and 23 admitted being paid to vote.

Peter Walker, later to become Lord Walker

The investigating committee comprised seven Tories and four Whigs and despite the strongest possible evidence of malpractice, gave the seat to Bailey by one vote.

He had spent £16,000 (something over £2m today) on his campaign and by way of thanks provided free beer at 80 Worcester pubs for voters.

Worcester Guildhall and High Street in 1904 when electric trams had just arrived. (Image: Newsquest)

There were further financial dark arts in 1802 when Lord Ward of Witley Court was retiring as Worcester’s MP and wished his son to succeed him. However the Corporation of Worcester – basically a closed shop of worthies who ran the city – was having none of it and refused to let young Ward stand. He therefore withdrew, but at the last moment a mystery candidate stepped forward, Joseph Scott of Great Barr, Birmingham.

An 1860 engraving of the Guildhall. (Image: CFOW)

Scott spent freely on his campaign and managed to win one of the two seats on offer. Only after the election did it emerge he was a close family friend of the Wards and they had bankrolled him out of revenge.

Where’s a sharp carrot when you need one.