Chris Moncrieff - Wine, Women and Westminster: Behind the Scenes Stories of MPs at Play Over 50 Years

First published in 2008

by JR Books, part of Aurum Press Ltd

7477 White Lion Street,

London, N1 9PF

www.aurumpress.co.uk

This eBook edition first published in 2014

Copyright 2008, 2014 Chris Moncrieff

Chris Moncrieff has asserted his moral right to be identified as the Author of this Work in accordance with the Copyright Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved.

This eBook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the authors and publishers rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

eBook conversion by Quarto Publishing Group USA

Digital edition: 978-1-78131-432-6

To Maggie with love

I would like to thank my wife Maggie and all our children (in chronological order) Joanna, Sarah, Kate and Angus, as well as my sister Ruth Whitfield for their invaluable help.

Special thanks also to Iain Dale, Maggie Scammell, Avril Ormsby, Jennifer Sym, Vivienne Morgan and Rachel Musson, without whose help I would never have got the show on the road. And, of course, I am eternally grateful to my employers, the Press Association.

Finally, a huge thank-you to our MPs whose buffoonery and antics made the whole thing possible.

T his is a book about politics and politicians. But it is utterly devoid of analysis, it has no depth and as for gravitas forget it. Wine, Women and Westminster is largely a collection of anecdotes and trivia assembled in some sort of order from the past 46 years I have spent working at Westminster for the Press Association.

I am fortunate to have travelled around the world both with Margaret Thatcher and with John Major, in each case a source of much unwitting comedy. I shall never, for instance, forget the spectacle of the late Denis Thatcher trying to feed an elephant a bun through the wrong orifice in Kandy, Sri Lanka.

Nor the occasion when I was asked to ring up a hospital to enquire about the condition of a particular patient, namely Harold Macmillan, the then Prime Minister. By accident, or possibly because they thought I was somebody important, the hospital switchboard put me through to the bedside phone of Mr Macmillan himself rather than to a spokesman. I nevertheless enquired how he was and he replied gruffly: I was fine until you bloody well woke me up.

Then there was the flamboyant, handlebar-moustached Tory, Sir Gerald Nabarro. I met him once in his Worcestershire constituency, and offered him a drink at the bar. A large scotch, please, Christopher, he boomed. So I bought him one, and myself a pint of Guinness. When we had downed these, I asked if he would like another, assuming, wrongly, that he might say it was his shout.

Another large scotch would do very nicely, he said. So I bought that, too, although not with much relish that time.

A few days later Sir Gerald tabled a Commons question, asking whether we Britons would be forced to drink unpalatable continental beer once we had joined the Common Market. I went down to the members lobby to expand on this story. He said: Take this down, Christopher, quotes on, Speaking as a total abstainer, I

At which point, somewhat pained, I stopped him in his tracks, saying: What about those two large scotches at Evesham last week?

Scrub that, he said. Take this down, Christopher. Quotes on, Speaking as a connoisseur of British beer He didnt bat an eyelid. You had to admire the cheek.

So you see, there are as many laughs as there is solemnity at Westminster, as much farce as there is heavy drama, and as much rollicking fun as there is tedium.

I hope you enjoy it.

Chris Moncrieff

T he Hampton Court maze has nothing on the Palace of Westminster. I have been a Westminster journalist based there for almost 50 years and I still find myself lost on occasion. It may be the seat of Parliament, but its also a sprawling complex of dank, dark corridors, subterranean passages, and forbidding staircases in the most unsuspected places. In one area there is actually a door high up on the wall. No one has ever been able to explain how this architectural blunder came about. I have never found the other side of that door, but I trust it is securely locked, with the warning: Mind the drop which is about 15 feet.

The most public part of the entire edifice is the central lobby, a large, busy circular area, the Piccadilly Circus of Westminster where constituents go to lobby their MPs. It is always busy and bustling. As you enter it, to your left is the Chamber of the House of Commons and to your right is the House of Lords, also known as the Upper House and, by those in the Commons in a typically bizarre tradition as another place. The Commons Chamber was bombed during World War II, and afterwards rebuilt almost but not exactly the same as the original one. For instance, the present Chamber has no pillars holding up the galleries.

There is a strict colour coding distinguishing the two Houses: the benches and other items in the Commons are green and red in the House of Lords. The long committee corridor, which stretches virtually from one end of the palace to the other, starts with green furnishing and ends with red, signifying that you have entered the Lords area of the building.

To get into the Commons Chamber from the central lobby, you pass through a short corridor with huge paintings of historical events on the walls and into the members lobby to which, generally speaking, only MPs and political reporters have access when the House is sitting. In here are statues, larger than life, honouring, among others, Winston Churchill, Lloyd George and Margaret Thatcher who became the first person to have her statue erected there while she was still alive. Most visitors have to climb stairs, elsewhere, to get into the public galleries. Only MPs are allowed to sit on the benches surrounding the members lobby. Reporters have to stand.

And then into the Chamber itself. Smoking was banned in the Chamber from the 17th century (and is now banned everywhere else in the palace), but a snuffbox is attached to the portals entering the chamber for MPs. The Speakers canopied chair faces you at the far end of the Chamber as you enter. Elected by MPs from among their own number, the Speaker controls the debates in the sense that they make sure that parliamentary rules are not breached. MPs who want to speak in debates stand up when the previous speaker has finished and the Speaker chooses which one to call.

To the left, as you enter the Chamber are the Government benches and to the right the Opposition. It is a confrontational cockpit of a place. The two sides are officially two sword-lengths apart to prevent skirmishes when swords were allowed in the Chamber. There still remain pegs on which members were once able to hang their swords. The Serjeant-at-Arms is the only one who still carries a sword into the chamber. He is often a retired military officer and is responsible for discipline throughout the palace. His office dates back to medieval days. If, for instance, the Speaker suspends an MP for breaking the rules and that MP refuses to leave the Chamber, then the Serjeant-at-Arms has to eject the miscreant, physically if necessary.