'Mad'' Jack Mytton, hailed from a long line of Shropshire squires stretching back more than 500 years. When his father died, at the age of two, he inherited his family estate, including Halston Hall and an annual income equivalent to over £1.7 million.

Raised by his “amiably weak and indulgent” widowed mother, Mytton’s education was entrusted to his rather ineffectual uncle, William Owen. Though they spent most of their time hunting and sleeping with horses.

Expelled from prestigious public schools like Westminster and Harrow, Mytton very nearly attended Trinity College, Cambridge, on the understanding that he would never read anything more taxing than The Racing Calendar.

Finally, though, Mytton threw over these ‘studies’ to embark on a Grand Tour of Europe, leaving behind the 2,000 bottles of vintage port he’d sent up to his suite of rooms in preparation.

In 1816, Mytton joined the army. Where he spent most of his time stationed in France, drinking and gambling. But, just before his 21st birthday, he resigned his commission and returned to England. Whereupon, he inherited a further fortune of £60,000 and estates worth £18,000 a year.

As a proper grown-up – with an alcohol problem and everything – he naturally wanted to become a parliamentarian. Though his daily intake of vintage port (and bottles of Eau de Cologne) might have made him seem a bit over-qualified.  

Mytton won his seat in parliament by ambling about his constituency wearing a flamboyant coat festooned with £10 notes – and giving them out to anyone offering him support. After spending a cool £10,000 on his electioneering, he became MP for Shrewsbury. And, having been sworn into the job, never went anywhere near Westminster again.

However, his reputation as a daredevil sportsman grew – with his name becoming synonymous with stupid recklessness. He was known for endurance hunting (performed naked and in snow), shooting rats on ice skates, and getting into high-speed traffic collisions.

When he wasn’t riding around on the back of a bear, dressing as a highwayman to terrify local clergymen, losing money out of carriage windows, and getting into fights with burly Shropshire miners, he was generally worrying the livestock.

Finally, he fled to France to escape his creditors, where he set himself on fire to curb a particularly annoying bout of hiccups.

Mytton ended up in a debtors’ prison in London, described as a “drivelling sot”. He passed away at the age of 38 – remembered for his generosity and fun-loving nature. Impressively, he managed to squander a fortune equivalent to about £20 million in today’s money, mostly on booze.  

This is a bonus episode made especially for Patreon subscriber – and all-round good egg – Lisa Highton.

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