AXL Rose, singer of Guns N' Roses fame, would demand provision of a square melon before he would perform on stage.

This is, in some ways, less outrageous than it initially sounds but, in others, more so. It seems at face value to be completely preposterous in that one might assume such a thing not to exist, in the manner of tartan paint or a straight answer from Boris Johnson.

In fact, they do exist. One may buy a square melon in Japan. The outrage, then, comes from the cost - around $200 - and the air miles, depending on where Mr Rose might be performing and how far from Japan it has to travel. Square melons are exactly the same as your common or garden watermelon in everything but shape. People pay a premium for novelty, which is surely a metaphor for modern politics.

These demands pale next to that of Sebastian Schwarz, the former general director of Glyndebourne, who demanded an apiary be waiting for him on arrival from Vienna. "It is amazing," he said, "To sit next to a beehive in the morning." We have no sense of how the bees feel to sit next to Mr Schwarz.

Celebrity riders are a fascinating thing. What an insight into the predilections and priorities of the folk the public have chosen to indulge in the limelight.

Now we have a political rider to pore over: the petty demands of a travelling Liz Truss have been revealed to be a list of boring preferences. She likes a Sauvignon blanc in the fridge at overnight accommodation and sushi or bagels for lunch. How basic

I'd like to know more about what she has on her bagels. We know what she doesn't have: mayonnaise. Absolutely never, under any circumstances, will the fleeting former prime minister have mayonnaise. A chunk of the electorate suddenly, and confusedly, finds itself simpatico with Truss over the no-mayo thing. Weirdos.

Truss's rider, as far as these things go, seems fairly mild. Wild, though, was the assertion from one of her former spads that the politician drank "42,000 espressos" a day. Given that her list supposedly also mentions that she likes her espressos served in flat-white-sized takeaway cups, that's a heck of a lot of landfill.

What of the riders of Truss's political peers? Rumour has it that Tony Blair was famously keen on having a bowl of M&Ms backstage but demanded all the brown ones be taken out.

Suella Braverman's rider consists solely of the demand that meeting rooms be plastered with mocked up front pages of passenger jets, the windows filled with the terrified faces of refugees as they soar towards an unknown future in an unknown country.

Braverman likes to gaze at these to psych herself up for meetings. She insists the headlines style her as a sort of superhero, the sad designers tasked with creating these mocked ups superimposing a cape around her shoulders. It helps to focus the mind.

The new PM's mind is focused by a neverending supply of Coke. Rishi Sunak, a self-styled "total Coke addict" won't leave the house unless he's assured that Coke is on hand - preferably the Mexican variety - in his cars and at every venue. He can't get enough of the stuff.

It was suggested he might like to mix his rider up now he's finally prime minister. Perhaps a blow up paddling pool that could be inflated on site to allow him to roll around in his gold bullion, in the manner of Scrooge McDuck, off his nut on caffeine and sugar.

Jacob Rees Mogg's rider is very specific. It reads: blackout curtains; no mirrors or any fixed antique mirrors to be covered with pictures of Nanny; absolutely, under any circumstances, no garlic. Like Truss and Sunak, Rees Mogg is very particular about beverages. Rather than espresso or Coke, however, he demands a flagon of sack.

Wouldn't we all have our preferences catered to if we could? Political peccadilloes, when they extend little further than coffee choices, are the least of our concerns.