Dupper clubs, the new dining experience for DUP voters

NEWTON'S OPTIC:I AM standing on the doorstep of a house in Portadown about to take part in the dining experience du jour, or more precisely du soir. Secret evening Dupper clubs, where DUP voters meet over a meal, are increasingly popular across 54 per cent of Northern Ireland.

Peering through the lace curtains into the dining room with attached conservatory, I see a group of people sitting at a long table as if Grant Wood had painted The Last Supper, not that I would expect any of them to get that reference.

Tonight’s event is hosted by Tim Lyttle and Iain Rodgers in their suburban home at No 57, The Development, Bleary. Lyttle (39) is an estate agent, car dealer and lay preacher who divides his time between Portadown and an apartment in Spain. Rodgers (21) is a sports masseur.

“We had the idea for a Dupper club after noticing that DUP voters don’t get invited to dinner parties,” explains Lyttle, ushering me in across the perfectly fitted laminate hallway flooring.

“Even if you get invited to one by accident you can’t admit being a DUP voter or it all goes terribly quiet and everyone suddenly has to leave. So we put up an invitation for like-minded people on Facebake, the Ulster-Scots social networking site, and the rest, as they say, is traditional.”

Lyttle and Rodgers certainly know their way around a Shaker-style pine fitted kitchen. Over a starter of Scottish farmed salmon on sliced wheaten bread, served with just a dash of Jif lemon, our dining companions introduce themselves. Their varied backgrounds read like the cast of an Ingmar Bergman comedy, not that I would expect them to get that reference either.

To my right is Mervyn Burke (45), a prison officer who also keeps a small dairy herd; Selwyn Black (32), a taxi driver with several buy-to-let properties; and Alwyn Baird (28), a plumber with a flourishing e-bay business in Rangers memorabilia.

To my left is no one at all.

A main course of gammon and pineapple with duchess potatoes soon sets mouths watering. Guests are encouraged not to bring alcohol, as both red and white grape Shloer are provided.

“The food is what I’m here for,” Burke says. “Nobody else makes caramel squares with cooking chocolate any more. I know real chocolate is just as cheap these days but that’s not the point. Some things should always be slightly bitter for no good reason. At Dupper club, people understand that.”

“This is a great way to socialise,” Black says. “I don’t feel comfortable in cafes since that whole Iris Robinson thing.”

“I’m here for the women, Baird says, “which is too bad, because I can’t help noticing that there aren’t any.”

“There aren’t any caramel squares either,” Burke says.

“If I’d known how much it would cost to be a plumber, I’d have gone to university,” Baird says, starting off what will doubtless be a night of sparkling dinner party conversation.

“Well, this has been absolutely fascinating,” I say, reaching for my coat. “But as you’ve suggested a donation, aren’t you basically running an untaxed and uninsured restaurant?”

“Oh, no, never!” Rodgers exclaims. “Never! Never! Never!”