The first gentlemen’s clubs were formed in London in the 17th century for the benefit of the English aristocracy. Opulent surroundings and strict rules of confidentiality about the affairs of the club allowed gentlemen to relax in convivial company—at least according to their public image. This is the story of the 10 very ungentlemanly clubs that quietly nurtured scandal, high‑stakes betting and downright misbehaviour.
10 Very Ungentlemanly Clubs
10 White’s
White’s is counted among the oldest gentlemen’s clubs in London, tracing its roots back to the early 18th century. Legend has it that the club inspired the gaming house depicted in The Rake’s Progress. From its inception, White’s earned a reputation as a den of iniquity, famed for its rowdy gaming tables.
Dinner at White’s is a marathon of ceremony, with multiple courses presented by austere waiters, followed by a generous serving of port and a parade of cigars. The club keeps a meticulous Betting Book that records every wager ever placed within its walls. Most of those bets are far from the usual horse‑racing fare; members have wagered on the length of a person’s life or which raindrop would reach the bottom of a windowpane first.
Other memorable wagers include a bet on whether the editor of a leading newspaper would end up in prison for libel, and a prediction that HRH the Duke of Clarence (later King William IV) would father a legitimate child within a two‑year span.
One especially odd entry dated 4 November 1754 records two members betting on which of two elderly gentlemen would die first. The bet was never settled because both bettors took their own lives before either of the senior gentlemen passed away.
The suicides were driven by crushing gambling debts—one of the men reportedly lost a staggering £32,000 in a single night.
In more recent decades, White’s became a recruitment ground for the Cambridge Spies, a cadre of Eton‑ and Cambridge‑educated men who turned traitor and spied for the Soviet Union.
9 Boodle’s
Boodle’s, named after a former waiter, was founded in 1762 by the Earl of Shelburne. Membership has always been by election, and many hopefuls have been turned away. Although the club’s stated purpose was political, it was openly acknowledged that “wining and dining, gaming and betting” would forever be the lifeblood of the establishment.
The gambling tradition has endured ever since. Members such as the dandy Beau Brummell recorded their bets in the club’s Betting Book. Brummell famously entered his final wager just before fleeing London to escape massive gambling debts.
Gambling was not confined to the club’s walls. In 2002, the former chairman of Boodle’s was exposed for a £4 million fraud designed to cover his investment losses and the club’s membership fees. Boodle’s also inspired the fictional club Blades, the haunt of James Bond.
8 The Clermont Club
The Clermont Club opened its doors in 1962 thanks to eccentric millionaire and zoo proprietor John Aspinall. From the start it was designed as an exclusive casino for the ultra‑rich, quickly becoming a glittering playground of high‑stakes gambling during the swinging 60s.
Its guest list read like a roll‑call of celebrities: actors, politicians and even royalty. Regulars included Roger Moore, Frank Sinatra and Princess Margaret. Lord Lucan, a notorious figure, was a frequent visitor and personal friend of Aspinall. On the night of Lucan’s infamous disappearance, he stopped by the club to settle his debts before his children’s nanny was found bludgeoned to death hours later.
The most popular game on the floor was the French card game chemin de fer. Legend has it that the Earl of Derby once lost half a county in a single evening of play. Rumour also has it that Aspinall, facing heavy losses, resorted to marking cards to protect himself, though no concrete proof has ever emerged.
7 Brooks’s
Brooks’s was founded in 1762 by two gentlemen who had been black‑balled by White’s. The original premises sat on the site of a former tavern, and its early members—self‑styled “Macaronis”—gathered there for wine, fine dining and gambling. Today the club occupies a far more lavish building, still boasting several gaming rooms where fortunes are won and lost.
The club’s history includes a particularly extravagant dinner after which an earl wagered 500 guineas that a duke could not make love with a woman “a thousand yards up” in a hot‑air balloon—a bet that arguably paved the way for a different kind of club altogether.
6 The Reform Club
The Reform Club was established in 1836, originally limiting membership to those who pledged support for the Great Reform Act of 1832, making it a stronghold for Liberal Party supporters. Over time it shed any political affiliation and became one of the first clubs to admit women.
In recent years the club has been embroiled in allegations of bullying and discrimination against staff and elected officials. Because of the club’s secretive nature, many details remain hidden, though several officials have reportedly been paid handsomely to leave and never return.
The club famously appears in Jules Verne’s classic when Phileas Fogg departs after betting members £20,000 that he could circle the globe in 80 days. Despite its size and wealth, the Reform Club has occasionally resorted to commercial deals, such as renting the entire premises to Cartier for a 2017 jewellery exhibition, forcing members to drink elsewhere for a month.
5 The East India Club
Billed as a “gentleman’s home from home,” the East India Club was founded in the mid‑19th century. While it may lack the centuries‑old pedigree of some peers, it compensates with immense wealth, opulence—and scandal.
Originally created for officers of the East India Company, the club later opened its doors to gentlemen of all persuasions. Membership still hinges on nomination, typically by headmasters of elite private schools. The club has stubbornly refused to admit women as full members, allowing “ladies” only on special occasions and only if they know their place and enter through the back door.
Even when the treasurer embezzled £500,000, the club’s first concern was secrecy, not prosecution. The organization also featured in a blackmail scandal when a British MP claimed expenses for staying at the club during an extramarital affair, only to be filmed leaving the premises with his mistress.
4 The Albemarle Club
The Albemarle Club opened its doors in 1874 and, unusually for the time, admitted both men and women from day one. This progressive stance was scandalous to many contemporaries, especially since clubs such as London’s Garrick still refuse female members.
The club attracted a colourful roster of artists, writers and intellectuals, most famously Oscar Wilde. The Marquess of Queensberry, a short‑tempered boxing‑rule‑maker, believed Wilde was corrupting his son. Denied entry to the Albemarle, the Marquess left a card for Wilde with the doorman that read, “For Oscar Wilde posing as a sodomite.”
Wilde, unwilling to let the insult slide, sued for libel. The doorman’s damning testimony, coupled with evidence of multiple young men claiming Wilde as a lover, resulted in Wilde’s conviction and a two‑year sentence in Reading Gaol, effectively ending his literary career.
3 The Presidents Club
The Presidents Club was not a gentlemen’s club in the traditional sense but a men‑only charity that hosted lavish fundraising dinners. These events were described as lively, raucous and, regrettably, rife with sexual harassment.
Scandal erupted when an undercover journalist from the Financial Times posed as a waitress at one of the dinners. The waitstaff were selected for their looks and instructed to wear revealing black dresses and underwear. Briefings warned that some men might become “overly familiar,” framing such behaviour as part of the “fun.”
The ball attracted high‑profile politicians, businessmen and celebrities, all claiming ignorance of the misconduct. When the Financial Times released secret footage showing the treatment of the serving staff, the charity was forced to shut its doors permanently.
2 The Savile Club
The Savile Club’s current building was purchased from the widow of Viscount Lewis “Loulou” Harcourt. Harcourt, after resigning as an MP upon inheriting his peerage, devoted himself to a disturbing hobby—pedophilia. By the time of his death he allegedly possessed the finest collection of child pornography in the country, a fact that was an open secret among certain elite circles.
Writer H. G. Wells once faced pressure to resign from the club after his mistress became pregnant. The mistress was the daughter of a fellow member; she quickly married another man to avoid scandal, as Wells was already married. Nevertheless, the affair persisted, and the mistress’s father waited in the club with a revolver, prepared to confront Wells. Ultimately the committee asked Wells to step down for safety reasons.
1 The Bullingdon Club
Officially known as a dining society, the Bullingdon Club has no permanent premises. Members are recruited from current Oxford University students, most of whom have also attended Eton. Membership demands substantial wealth; the required evening dress with a Bullingdon‑blue tailcoat is tailored by a single maker and costs about £3,500.
There are no formal club fees, but prospective members must consider the expense of food, drink and, crucially, the repair bills that follow their notorious restaurant‑rampages. Members are famous for trashing establishments and then tossing money to patrons to cover the damage.
The club’s proceedings are secret, though rumors persist—one tale tells of a member burning a £50 note in front of a homeless man as part of an initiation rite. Founded in 1780 with hunting and fishing as its original pursuits, the Bullingdon has seen a sharp decline in membership over the past fifteen years, a trend amplified by the scathing depiction of its excesses in the film The Riot Club. In May 1894 the members smashed nearly all the lights and all 468 windows in Peckwater Quad, Christ Church, Oxford, and repeated the feat in 1927. Today the club no longer appears on Oxford’s approved list, and its numbers continue to dwindle.