He was a very rich man, with a £4m trust fund and a big big salary. He lived in an agreeable Cheshire farmhouse which cost £450,000, and the yokels paid the interest on his mortgage.
Which was nice. But George didn't just want to be a politician. Lots of his friends had (or borrowed from the Metropolitan Police and Sun editors) ponies, and he wanted one too.
So he bought a field for Dobbin, and the land was recorded with the Land Registry as separate from his very agreeable house. But one day, Farmer George realised that the field could be a big present to him from the villeins of the country. So he paid for the field by increasing the mortgage on his very agreeable house and 'flipping' his two houses to qualify lots of lovely taxpayer carrots - and the straw-chomping peasantry paid Mr Banker the interest on the mortgage, to the tune of 100,000 carrots. This was very pleasant for Farmer George. He spent all day riding round and round and round the field on his Shetland pony, which he called Clegg.
Until one day, poor Farmer George realised that all his friends weren't riding ponies any more. They all had toy boats with heli-pads and mini-submarines. So George sold the very agreeable farmhouse and the field for 1 million carrots. And even though we churls had paid all the interest on the mortgage to help him buy the house and the field (which was essential for his Very Important Parliamentary Duties), we didn't get any of the 500,000 extra carrots George got for his estate. He packed them all into his saddlebags and rode away into the sunset.
And everyone lived happily ever after. At least, all the important people did. Everyone else got their benefits cut.