Kalimat Passive

'I do wish,' said the Hon Jacob Rees-Mogg in slightly peevish tones, 'you wouldn't keep going on about my nanny.' The 30-year-old prospective parliamentary candidate for the Wrekin in Shropshire, son of former Times editor Lord Rees-Mogg, rearranged his Flat Stanley form under the table at Claridges.I had a valet you'd think it was perfectly normal. Well,' he concedes, catching my eye, 'perhaps not.' Until two years ago, Rees-Mogg employed a maid called Eleanor. Then - rather thoughtlessly - she went off and got married. Now the fund manager has to make do with his nanny, Veronica Crook, who famously canvassed for him when he stood as Tory candidate for the depressed constituency of Central Fife.
On one magnificent occasion two summers ago, both maid and nanny were to be found tending to their charge in the bucolic glory of Glyndebourne, where they took turns holding an open book over Rees-Mogg's thin and pale neck to prevent it getting burned as he entertained a party of guests to a picnic.
Was this really true? 'Oh, every bit of it. I hate sitting in the sun,' he says. 'So I complained to Nanny and she rellied round!' The eccentric Rees-Mogg may, I suspect, be the last young British male to live as though he is in the 19th century.
Asked what his maid did, Rees-Mogg exclaims in his dizzy upper-crust drawl: 'Well, everything! Cook! Make my breakfast! Take care of my clothes.
All the sort of things which somebody has to do!' Most people managed these chores themselves, I observe. He considers this briefly. 'Well, more fool them!' So how did he manage without the maid? Did he make his own toast? 'I don't eat toast,' he reports. 'And I'm out a lot, and if I'm in I just have cheese and biscuits. I never have a hot meal if I have to make it for myself.
In fact, my oven's been disconnected for the past three months. I think it's frightfully funny. I think my younger sister, who lives with me, finds it a bit trying.' What about his clothes?