If you had told me some years ago that I would feel some affection for Harold Macmillan, Conservative Prime Minister 1957-63, I would have found it hard to believe. But over the years I have found myself warming to him, mostly because the man had a sense of humour.
Simon Schama gives a nice example in a recent Guardian article:
“Tripping over a rug in the Christs College senior common room, I rose to find myself face to face with Harold Macmillan’s whiskers. ‘There there’, Supermac drawled, not missing a beat, ‘gratitude understandable; prostration quite unnecessary.'”