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I always sympathized with the people who did work for hire; I was one of them.

Abstract sympathy with the working class as an economic entity is easy, but the feeling can vanish on contact with actual members of the group, who often arrive with disturbing beliefs and powerful resentments - who might not sound or look like people urban progressives want to know.

I still consider myself working class. I know my circumstances have changed dramatically since I was growing up back in Birkenhead.

I'm a working-class person, working with class.

I am from the class that has, in a sense, benefited from the status quo, but everyone still gets victimized.

I feel sympathy for the working class lad. I've always championed about ticket prices and try to equate that to people's salaries.

I have a visceral response to a memory of working-class life.

I'm working class. Not because my family have always been skint or because I'm from the grim north, but because I am from a class of people who believe in work. In paying their way.