Category Archives: Parliament

Same feet, different tables

An incredibly busy couple of days.

Monday was spent in Cardiff, settling into the Wales Office building in Cardiff Bay, meeting the very welcoming officials and generally getting my feet under the table.  There was a very successful visit by the Prime Minister to the Assembly, where we met the Presiding Officer and the PM and Secretary of State had a private meeting with the First Minister.

Yesterday I got my feet under another table; this time, the one in my office at Gwydyr House, the Wales Office’s principal base, in Whitehall.  Again, a round of meeting more officials, who were equally welcoming.

In the afternoon, I crammed with colleagues into the overflowing Commons chamber for the election of the Speaker.  Not only were there hundreds of new faces, I had the experience for the first time of viewing my colleagues from the Government side. 

The election procedure was conducted in stentorian tones by the new Father of the House, Sir Peter Tapsell.  Sir Peter is a formidable yet well-loved figure, and appropriate tribute was paid to him by Sir Malcolm Rifkind, who informed the House that its new Father had first entered the chamber in 1959, having previously worked for Sir Anthony Eden.

John Bercow was re-elected by almost universal acclamation.

Then back to Gwydyr House, and more meetings.

Cardiff Monday, London Tuesday.  If it’s Wednesday, it must be St Asaph.

May blossom

Throwing open the curtains this morning, I am greeted by a brilliantly clear day.  So clear, indeed, that it is hard to believe that, high above me in the stratosphere, there is a pall of Icelandic volcanic ash so dense that, once again, flights from British airports are grounded.

The ash cloud has not, however, descended to the lower reaches of the atmosphere.  It is, I repeat, a stunningly clear day: so clear, that it is possible to pick out every sheep enclosure, every whitewashed cottage on the slopes of the Carneddau, now free, at last, of the snows that have lingered since October. 

The may is breaking into blossom, too, throughout North Wales.  The journey back from Ruthin surgery yesterday was a delight, the Clwydian roads lined with hawthorn trees heavy with the white, sometimes pink, bloom that is the cheerful hallmark of springtime here; the most visible sign of nature’s renewal.

Today I must drive back to London, taking with me boxes of files that were temporarily removed to the constituency during the election campaign.  The Mini is crammed full of them; it took me ages to get them in and I have no idea how I will unload them when I arrive.  I’m beginning to think that I may, sadly, need a four-door car again.

And tomorrow, there will be new challenges.  New job, new office, new colleagues, new routines.  The familiar process of adapting to the unfamiliar.

But new is good; new means progress.  New means change. 

Change, heaven knows, is what our country has needed, for so very long.  And change, at last,  has started.

Stephen Timms

I was dreadfully sorry to read that Stephen Timms, the MP for East Ham and former Financial Secretary to the Treasury, has apparently been stabbed by a constituent at one of his regular surgeries.

Stephen is a good and decent man, and I wish him well in his recovery.

The incident underlines the risks MPs and their staff can run when going about their Parliamentary and constituency business.  A few years ago, the aide to the Cheltenham MP, Nigel Jones, was killed by a man wielding a samurai sword; Jones himself was badly injured. 

All change

A long first day back at Westminster, the most dramatic event of which was the announcement by Gordon Brown of his intended resignation as Labour leader.  I wish I could find some suitable words of praise for him, or of regret at his departure, but I can’t.  Let’s leave it at that.

This evening, there was a meeting of the Parliamentary Conservative party in committee room 14, the biggest in the House.  It was so full that it could scarcely accommodate all the Members who turned up.  We are now a very big party indeed.

After the meeting, some of us adjourned to the smoking room (where smoking isn’t allowed, by the way).  That, too, was full of Tories.  It was particularly satisfying  to sit at an all-Welsh Conservative table.

This Parliament is going to be very different from the last.  The negotiations continuing among the three principal parties will determine its shape, if not necessarily its duration.

Hung Parliament Party

Waiting for the off

A strange atmosphere in the House today.  Not so much end of term as fin de siècle.

The Welsh select committee held its final meeting of this Parliament, signing off what may turn out to be its most important piece of work: the report on the Welsh Assembly Government’s relations with Whitehall.  We then said our goodbyes to one another, all friends and colleagues despite our separate party affiliations.  I will miss them.

This evening, in the Adjournment dining room, Labour Members were in raucously ebullient mood, laughing loudly, embracing one another and having their photos taken by the waitresses.  It would not have been in the least surprising if they had broken into a chorus of Auld Lang Syne.

At the next table, a lobbyist was in loud and earnest conversation with a senior Labour MP, assuring him that there was a place for him in his organisation if things didn’t go the way he hoped.  The MP nodded with reluctant enthusiasm and promised he’d be in touch.

Truth is, the decks have almost been cleared now.  We’re just waiting for the starting gun.  And there’s no doubt at all that it will be fired the week after next.

A bit of a foul-up

There was an unexpected interlude of hilarity yesterday in the otherwise dry-as-dust Work and Pensions Questions, which customarily takes the form of a litany of statistics, each of them grim and each of them concealing hundreds of thousands of untold individual miseries.

The senior Conservative, David Heathcoat-Amory, rose to his feet to ask the Secretary of State:

Mr. David Heathcoat-Amory (Wells) (Con): If she will estimate the total pension deficit liability in the public sector.   

A look of perplexity, followed by panic, crossed the faces of the five members of the ministerial team.  Nobody had the answer. Then Angela Eagle, who glories in the title of Minister for Pensions and the Ageing Society, and who had clearly been given the short straw by Yvette Cooper, rose and approached the dispatch box tentatively, as if it was an elaborately carved, brassbound form of improvised explosive device:

Angela Eagle: We have been told that this question has been transferred to Her Majesty’s Treasury.

Speaker Bercow, however, would have none of it:

Mr. Speaker: Order. Let me say to the hon. Lady that the House was certainly not aware of that. I was not aware of it, the question is on the Order Paper, and I know that she will offer us an answer.

Ms Eagle knew she was stuck with it and had to make the best of a bad job.  She paused, drew a deep breath, and ploughed on with her answer:

Angela Eagle: I am happy to offer an answer. The total pension deficit liability in the public sector is, off the top of my head, close to £600-odd billion, but this has to be seen in context. The pension liabilities are calculated over the next 80 years. In that context, it has to be borne in mind that the average size of a public sector pension is £4,000 to £5,000.

Mr. Speaker: So there is time for an update.

David Heathcoat-Amory could hardly contain his amusement:

Mr. Heathcoat-Amory: It is obvious that the Government do not have a clue. They cannot even find a Department to answer the question, so let me provide the answer. Outside agencies estimate that the public sector deficit liability is about £1 trillion, which is £1,000 billion. In the pre-Budget report, the Government were going to get that down by only £1 billion, which is one tenth of 1 per cent. Is it not obvious that in this area of policy and many others we need a change of Government to get the answers?

Ms Eagle knew that she had made a chump of herself; there was no saving the situation, so she decided that attack was the only option available to her:

Angela Eagle: The right hon. Gentleman persists in scaremongering about the provision of public sector pensions for millions of low-paid public sector workers. As I have said, the average pension payment is £5,000 a year. Those liabilities are perfectly sustainable and comprise between 1.5 and 2 per cent. of GDP. If the right hon. Gentleman is telling the House that the Opposition do not think that that is sustainable, what he is saying to the electorate in the forthcoming election is that they will take away the public sector pension provision of millions of public sector workers who are out there working hard to keep our public services going in difficult times—and that, Mr. Speaker, is an absolute disgrace.

But she knew she had blown it and that, furthermore, she had been offered up by her four colleagues to take the elegantly-delivered kicking from Mr Heathcoat-Amory.

With a look approaching fury, she turned to her officials sitting in the box behind the Speaker’s chair and mouthed venomously: “That was a complete foul-up”.

At least, I think she said “foul-up”.  The “f” was clear enough.

David Taylor MP

David Taylor was a highly respected, independent-minded Labour MP who will be missed on both sides of the House.

His death was announced on his website earlier this afternoon.  Couldn’t the Times have allowed just a short, decent interval to mark his passing, rather than crassly headlining its website report: Labour faces by-election test after MP death?

The Loyal Address

The debate on the Queen’s speech is one of the great set-pieces of the Parliamentary year.  Yesterday, the Loyal Address was proposed by Frank Dobson, the veteran MP for Holborn and St Pancras, who is both delightfully unreconstructed Old Labour and a very kind man (he once offered to buy me a coffee when I found myself without funds at the Portcullis House coffee shop).

Frank’s speech was extremely funny; the following story about his predecessor, Lena Jeger, gives a flavour:

She used to retell the tale that at her by-election in 1953 she was canvassing the top flat of a block in Camden Town. She launched into the great left-wing issue of the day—German rearmament and the threat it posed to international security. She stopped for breath, and the woman at the door asked, “Did you come up in the lift?”, and Lena says, “Yes.” “Stinks of pee, doesn’t it?” says the woman. “Yes,” says Lena. “Can’t you stop ’em peeing in our lift?” says the woman. “I don’t think I can,” says Lena. “Well,” says the woman, “if you can’t stop ’em peeing in our lift, how can you expect me to believe you can stop the Germans rearming?” A timeless lesson for us all.

The chamber was, of course, very full for the opening of the debate.  As a consequence, I found myself sitting on the furthermost back benches, behind the DUP and the small contingent from Plaid Cymru and the SNP.

David Cameron opened his contribution by congratulating Frank Dobson and Emily Thornberry, the Labour MP who had seconded the Loyal Address.  He then went on to welcome William Bain, the new Labour Member for Glasgow North-East, who had just taken his seat:

I expect that we will see the hon. Gentleman back in the House after the next election. I am sure there are many things that we will disagree about, but one thing on which I hope we will always agree is that we should never do anything to break up our United Kingdom.

At that point, one of the Plaid Cymru MPs dug his SNP neighbour in the ribs; they glanced at each other and both sniggered. 

It was a telling moment.

Privilege to be here

Hurrying back to my office through Westminster Hall  after buying a sandwich in the cafeteria this evening, I heard the sound of the organ rising up from the chapel of St Mary Undercroft, accompanying the voices of the Commons choir rehearsing the Hallelujah Chorus.

Two immediate emotions: what a beautiful place this is; and how quickly the year is passing.

What MPs really get up to

Yesterday was probably the last day but one on the Marine and Coastal Access Bill committee.  It has sat so far for four days, or some 18 hours; by the standards of major Bill committees, this is pretty quick.  With a fair wind, we’ll finish on Tuesday.

Sitting on a Bill committee takes over a good chunk of an MP’s life. This one has certainly taken over mine.  Not only is there the time spent sitting on the committee itself, there is also a long period of preparation, reading the Bill and its explanatory notes cover to cover, reading background materials (including, in the case of the Marine Bill, the debates in the House of  Lords)  and attending briefings given by ministerial teams and interest groups.  And, in the case of the Marine Bill, there are an awful lot of interest groups.

It is, in short, extremely hard work.  It monopolises time that would normally be spent on other parliamentary and constituency business, so it invariably results in even longer working weeks.  It is also relatively unseen and almost entirely unsung.

It is, however, an essential part of the parliamentary process.  Proper scrutiny in committee refines our legislation, improving already good Bills and focusing attention on the deficiencies of bad ones.

Constituents often ask me, disapprovingly, why the chamber is sometimes almost empty.  What do MPs get up to all day long?   Maybe, especially at the height of the expenses hue and cry, you have even wondered that yourselves.

Next time you do, please remember the people working quietly away on committees.   They are the real parliamentary heroes.

The Augean stables

Attended a packed Parliamentary party meeting in Portcullis House, when David Cameron presented his proposals to address the expenses issue. 

Outside the room, the press pack was encamped, reminding me of Siberian wolves waiting to pull down the weakest elks of the herd.  The feeding frenzy is still in full swing. 

The plans outlined by Cameron are simple and robust. Some colleagues will be required to return all or part of past claims; all Members will have to post claims on the web as and when they are made; questionable claims will be referred to the adjudication of a scrutiny panel, whose decision will be final.  Failure to accept the panel’s ruling will mean losing the whip and hence the opportunity to stand at the next election. 

Claims will be limited, essentially, to what is reasonably required to provide Members with a second home – as Cameron put it, to what is reasonable to do the job, not the maximum they can get away with. 

Most importantly, the practice of “flipping”, which is generally regarded as the most repugnant practice to have been disclosed over the past few days, will be outlawed.

David Cameron showed strong, sound leadership today and he has the party behind him.  The plans he announced are not the final word on the issue – we must wait for Kelly – but they should reassure electors that the Conservative party is taking their disgust over the abuse of the expenses system very seriously indeed and is determined to put matters right.

 We must hope, for the sake of Parliament’s reputation, that the leaders of the other major parties will now follow suit.

Privilege

Yesterday the select committee visited Bangor and took evidence for our digital inclusion inquiry at the new Technium in Parc Menai.

It was a particularly interesting session, made all the more enjoyable by the glorious weather: a stunning May day, warm and balmy, with a clear blue sky.  The Technium itself is an impressive modern building set in manicured parkland against the backdrop of the Snowdonia foothills; the weather showed it  to best advantage.

Because I have a statutory instrument committee today, I had to travel back to London last night.  I took the evening train, changing at Chester and arriving at Euston shortly before 10.00.  The journey was a delight, the fields lushly green and the hedgerows heavy with hawthorn blossom.

I turned on the BBC news when I got back to the flat; still wall-to-wall coverage of MPs’ expenses; our reputation continues to be damaged, our credibility undermined.  I could have felt almost terminally depressed.

And yet, I felt that I had undertaken a long day’s work, contributing to a report I hope will be valuable, with the added pleasure of meeting erudite, interesting people.  I had rounded it off with an evening’s journey though our beautiful countryside at the very best time of year.

This job is not easy, but it is, I believe, important and valuable; it is an absolute privilege to be elected to do it.  Nobody should ever take that privilege for granted.

And, despite the current poisonous political climate, I, for one, wouldn’t want to do anything else.

Waiting for Kelly

To morning service at St Paul’s. 

The other members of the congregation are very kind, saying how awful the expenses issue must be for us.  We appreciate their support; the problem is that the stuff that is coming out in the papers is having the effect of tarring every MP, the innocent as well as the guilty, with the same brush. 

People understand fully that MPs need somewhere to live in London, but find it unacceptable that they should go out of their way to milk the expenses system.  The practice of “flipping” – switching designated second homes to maximise benefits – comes in for particular condemnation, and rightly, too.  Members who have engaged in that have a lot of explaining to do.

Reading the Sundays, which are in the middle of a full-blown feeding frenzy, one might reasonably gain the impression that every single elector wants the blood of every single MP.  My experience at St Paul’s today tells me that they are a lot more grown-up than that.  What they want is proper representation in Westminster by people they can trust.  They can understand the need for Members to charge reasonable expenses, but can’t accept institutionalised shysterism.

The fact is that some MPs have let all of us, and our electors, down.  It can’t go on like this.  Kelly must report as quickly as possible.

Making a splash

Torrential rain in London today, coupled with strong gusts of wind that blow the umbrellas of the tourists, standing in the queue outside St Stephen’s, inside out.

There is a blocked road drain immediately adjacent to the queue. Even in light rain, this causes a large puddle to form, but today there is a sizeable pool. Inevitably, a vehicle passes through it from time to time, soaking the poor tourists with the spray.

Why, for heaven’s sake, can’t someone clear it? They’ve spent a fortune on the new visitor entrance, but for some unfathomable reason can’t be bothered to unblock the drain, which has been in this condition for at least the last three years.