An exclusive look at Yorkshire tycoon David Kerfoot's incredible collection of political memorabilia

Mugs, jugs, plates and marble-style busts jostle for position with portraits of the famous and not-so-famous, along with gin flasks, a tea caddy, teapot, paperweight, clay pipe, silver trowel and pin cushion – all meticulously catalogued, cross-referenced and photographed.

They’re all over the place in David’s home in Ainderby Steeple, near Northallerton – in a display case in his study, in alcoves, the hall and the drawing, dining and family rooms. Not in the bedroom though; his wife Elizabeth would probably put a stop to that.

He even managed to buy the official red despatch box of the 5th Earl of Rosebery (1847-1929), prime minister from 1894-95, whose title, incidentally, comes from Roseberry Topping, a hill near his wife’s estates in North Yorkshire. “I bought it in a Colchester auction house after it turned up in a pop-up charity shop,” says David.

It bears Rosebery’s coronet, monogram and the name of his 350-ton twin-screw schooner Zaida, a member of the Royal Yacht Squadron, and the steel box was used to ferry documents to the prime minister when he was at sea. How it ended up in Essex is anybody’s guess.

David Arnold Kerfoot, CBE, launched his oil business with his wife in 1980 from a desk and phone in the back bedroom of their home, then in Morton-on-Swale, with just £300 in the bank.

They blended and packed vegetable oils but later expanded, with offices in Bedale and Northallerton, by making their own oils for the food, cosmetics and aromatherapy industries, building the company into a £90m business.

But he has never forgotten his roots and plays a large part in community affairs, serving on the board of the York and North Yorkshire Local Enterprise Partnership for a decade, three years as chair, before standing down in 2021.

He was also High Sheriff of North Yorkshire for 2020-21 and is currently Deputy Lieutenant, while a keen supporter of many local charities.

So, then, a busy man. But David, 69, always finds time for his passion, buying from antique shops, contacts and auction houses.

In Yorkshire, Tennants of Leyburn and David Duggleby of Scarborough prove happy hunting grounds. Political souvenirs frequently turn up at Wiltshire auctioneers Woolley & Wallis and he recently travelled to Salisbury to buy eight pieces, including a creamware “frog” mug commemorating the assassination of prime minister Spencer Perceval by John Bellingham in 1812. Perceval is the only British prime minister to have been assassinated.

Most collectors of political keepsakes paint with a broader brush, snapping up pieces relating to such events as general elections, the South Sea Bubble, the abolition of slavery, Forster’s Education Act of 1870, wars and the suffragette movement, as well as politicians.

David opted for the more specialised market of long-dead, half-forgotten MPs and prime ministers.

But what sparked his obsession? “I was always interested in political history, even as a boy, and loved reading about different governments and politicians,” he says.

“Then in 1988 I spotted in an antique shop in Ripon a plate commemorating Randolph Churchill [third son of the 7th Duke of Marlborough and father of Winston]. It was in a pair with a plate for the Bishop of Manchester and I still have the receipt, £60 for the two – a sum I couldn’t really afford at that time.”

From then on there was no stopping him. “I began collecting keepsakes relating to MPs, some famous, some obscure, but drawing the line at political and historical events,” he says.

One thing soon became obvious though; “Souvenirs relating to Conservative MPs are far easier to find than Labour ones. It’s almost impossible, for instance, to find anything relating to Keir Hardie, who was a founder of the Labour Party and its first leader from 1906 to 1908,” David adds.

One favoured piece of particular Yorkshire interest in the collection is a parian bust of Lightcliffe-born textile manufacturer and philanthropist Sir Titus Salt (1803-1876), at various times Liberal MP, Alderman and Mayor of Bradford. He built Salts textile mill, together with the adjoining village of Saltaire.

Mementos include several busts depicting the indomitable Lord Palmerston, who dominated British foreign policy from 1830-1865; a mug showing William Pitt the Elder, prime minister from 1766-68; a jug bearing a picture of Hull-born William Wilberforce, leader of the movement to abolish the slave trade; a special nursery plate, and several plaques, depicting the Duke of Wellington, Battle of Waterloo hero and later prime minister, dancing the polka with Sir Robert Peel, prime minister and the man recognised as the father of modern British policing.

There is also a teapot and tea caddy bearing the image of William Gladstone, one of Britain’s most famous PMs, who served for 12 years over four terms from 1868-1894; and a paperweight and bust of three-times Conservative prime minister Lord Derby.

Then there’s that clay pipe, the huge bowl of which bears the image of statesman Joseph Chamberlain, father of prime minister Neville Chamberlain.

However, perhaps David’s most valuable acquisition, from Tennants in the 2013, were two Staffordshire ceramic caricatures, one each of those great Victorian rivals, Liberal William Gladstone and Conservative Benjamin Disraeli, whose greatness was largely due, it might be said, to their mutual loathing and their determination

to outdo each other over a period of at least 30 years.

Memorabilia relating to less well-known MPs includes a pin cushion featuring Irish nationalist and Commons MP John Redmond; a hand-painted miniature of 18th century Whig statesman Charles James Fox, a fierce opponent of George III; a ladies’ trinket box relating to Conservative reformer Sir Francis Burdett; a cup bearing the image of Northern MP William Cobbett, a pamphleteer once sent to prison for treasonous libel; and a silver trowel marking the opening of a building by barely-remembered 19th century Conservative MP and banker Charles Forster.

Gin flasks were sold at a penny each in the late 19th century, with cork stoppers stuck into the heads of contemporary politicians, and David has quite a collection.

But what does his wife Elizabeth think of his hobby? “It drives her mad! ‘Oh no, not another one,’ she says. But actually, she understands my passion and has got to love it.”

One might think David might have at last satisfied his desire for more political memorabilia... but not a bit of it.

“The excitement is still there,” he says. “There’s always the chance that a dream purchase is just around the corner, just like Rosebery’s despatch box.”