Westminster

[audioplayer src=”http://traffic.libsyn.com/spectator/TheViewFrom22_23_January_2014_v4.mp3″ title=”Alex Wickham discuss Westminster’s wandering hands with Miranda Green” startat=790] Listen [/audioplayer]As I walked out of the bar, I noticed a Conservative MP following me. It had been an evening for young political activists, mostly teenage boys, and it was drawing to an end. I pretended to be engrossed in my phone, but the MP — well-liked, universally respected — lurched towards me, placing his arm around my waist and leaning in close. I could smell the whisky and cigars on his breath. ‘I’m just going to the toilet,’ he slurred, winking and gesturing at the gents. I had only worked in and around Parliament for a year, but

Yes, Eric Joyce, the MP for Falkirk until the next election, has issues. Yes, his copy book is well blotted. He has a conviction for assault which scarcely reflects splendidly upon him (even if many members of the public themselves wouldn’t mind sticking-the-heid on any number of MPs) and in his dozen or so years in Westminster he has made energetic use of his parliamentary allowances. Yes, yes, yes. But I have some time for almost anyone declared “unfit to stand for the Labour party”. It’s a kind of character reference. Moreover and despite his troubles, Joyce possesses many of the qualities we should desire in our parliamentary representatives. Chief of

I don’t really understand why politicians spend so much time talking to journalists. Most of the time little good can come from doing so. Of course, from a personal or professional perspective, this is fine and adds greatly to the gaiety of trade and nation. Nevertheless… Take, for instance, the reports in today’s Financial Times and Daily Mail in which “senior” government sources stick their shivs into Alistair Darling. The leader of the Unionist campaign fighting next year’s referendum on Scottish independence is, we are informed, “comatose most of the time”. A different (I think) Downing Street figure complains that Darling is a “dreary figurehead”. Meanwhile in the Mail, Gerri Peev finds

So, I recommend a trip to Sri Lanka. Wonderful place. Go now before everyone else does. Being (almost entirely) offline for a couple of weeks is a blessing too. But even good things come to an end. Which brings me to Russell Brand. Fair play to the New Statesman. Their decision to ask Brand to “edit” an issue has brought them all the publicity they could have hoped for. It would be churlish to begrudge the Staggers that. Celebrity sells. Or, at least, wins attention. Which is fine. Plenty of people seem quite enthused by Brand. Even if they disagree with his diagnosis of contemporary ills they enjoy the sight

I was at a funeral on Friday and so late catching-up with the latest entertainment provided by UKIP. But, gosh, thank heavens for Godfrey Bloom. Not just because he and his ilk have injected some welcome craziness into British politics – the circus always needs new clowns – but because by doing so they have reminded us of the stakes involved. Bloom – last heard decrying aid squandered on feckless Bongo Bongo Land – one-upped himself with his talk of sluts who fail to clean their kitchens properly. Sure, there was something refreshing about hearing Nigel Farage admit all this amounted to a disaster for UKIP but the bigger point is that

A muddle and a cock-up. For all the talk of parliament reasserting itself, last night’s vote on Syria showed a parliament that voted, twice, to oppose actions it actually supports. David Cameron has been humiliated but this was hardly a banner day for Ed Miliband either. The House of Commons has, for now, cut off its nose to spite its face. Perhaps surgery can repair the damage. Perhaps it can’t. Because the longer and more deeply one contemplates yesterday’s events the more evident it seems that there were no winners. The government motion was defeated. So was Labour’s amendment. Since these motions were, in essence and in most practical respects,

I have never quite understood Ed Miliband’s appeal. He always reminds me of Cuthbert Cringeworthy from The Bash Street Kids. I find it hard to imagine him becoming Prime Minister. Something just feels wrong about that. I’m not alone in wondering about this. Brian Wilson, the former energy minister, wrote yesterday that Miliband still has a kind of credibility problem. People just don’t think he’s quite ready for the top job. They may not be able to say exactly why they’re unimpressed by Miliband; they just know they are. Not so fast my friend, responds John McTernan today. Ignore all the chattering and blethering about Labour’s slide in the polls and

Mike Hancock last night resigned the Lib Dem whip to fight a court case that includes serious allegations about his conduct. He resigned after a meeting with the chief whip and the party’s deputy leader Simon Hughes about the claims, which he strenuously denies. A party spokesman said last night: ‘Mike Hancock strenuously denies the allegations made in the civil case and intends to clear his name in court.’ But as The Spectator reported, the party has been aware of allegations about Hancock’s behaviour for a number of years. In March, Julie Bindel outlined the leadership’s reaction to a complaint from a constituent: ‘Nick Clegg received a written complaint about the

So, just so we’re clear about this: people pretending to be lobbyists appear to be able to persuade parliamentarians to do their bidding (for cash, natch) and this therefore justifies introducing a statutory register of lobbyists. You need no diploma in cynicism to perceive that this is aimed at protecting stupid and greedy politicians rather more than it is a serious attempt at “regulating” lobbying or access to politicians. It’s a means of helping MPs avoid embarrassment. Now they can check to see if the people paying them are real lobbyists! Result! Which is fine (and the coalition gains bonus Urquhart points for using the measure to stiff the Trades

‘Red Ed’ invited the great and good of the media into his Westminster den for hummus and natter last night. No one knew what they were celebrating. Poor local election results? His rescue of a cyclist? Christmas? Who cares; no hack ever passed up a free drink. Ed glided through the room, flirting with friend and foe in an easy manner that does not translate to television. And, unlike Cameron and Clegg, Ed is not one for an early bed. He stayed right to the bitter end, even after the wine and beer had dried up, just as he did at last year’s Spectator summer bash. Incidentally, the Labour leader