At the end of my first day at the House of Lords, I staggered out with so many books and leaflets and three-ring binders I could barely see over the top. These were the official rules, what Walter Bagehot would have called the ‘dignified’ part of the constitution. But on top of these are the unwritten rules, which are twice as voluminous. Some people compare parliament to Hogwarts, and it’s true that there’s a ‘secret’ entrance in Westminster tube station. But Harry Potter didn’t get as many things wrong as me in his first term.
Admittedly, some of the rules I’ve had difficulty mastering are pretty basic. When you enter the debating chamber, you’re supposed to bow to the throne, something I usually remember to do, but finding somewhere to sit, and doing so without too much of a fuss, is far from easy. The other day, I was congratulating myself on having pulled it off, when I got a message on my phone from Lord Effingham, one of the Tory whips. ‘Lord Young,’ it said. ‘On the basis you have taken the Conservative whip, may I please suggest that you sit on the Conservative benches.’ It was only then that I noticed I was surrounded by Labour peers.
That one isn’t written down because it’s so bleedin’ obvious, but others are less so. For instance, peers are not supposed to shake hands with each other. Even though this was pointed out to me, I spent the first week unthinkingly thrusting out my hand whenever I was introduced to anyone. This proved to be a useful way of distinguishing between the hereditaries and the life peers.
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