My MP recently took part in a local radio interview. At the end, the presenter said, “Thanks for coming in,” without naming him, and went to play a song. As my MP was getting up, he asked the presenter whether he could namecheck him when back on air, suggesting he said something like: “Well, thanks to [name] for that interview.” The presenter looked at him and said: “Listen mate, if I had my way you wouldn’t even be here.” My MP left the studio with his tail firmly between his legs.
Out of the mouths of babes
Recently, my MP visited a school and spoke to some children in Year Six. After the usual questions – “Have you ever met Barack Obama?”, “Why did Gordon Brown never smile?” – my MP, in turn, asked the children some questions, one being what they were most concerned about. Among the stock answers – litter, bullying, etc. One girl said: “My main worry is the amount of brothels and prostitutes in the area.” My MP, not usually lost for words, was stunned. What’s more, as we were leaving, he asked me if I knew where the brothels were.
No love lost…
A friend recently finished working for a rising Labour star. Every time his former MP made a media appearance, he'd text me. Checking my phone recently, here are his last three messages: 1) Aaarrrrrrgggghhhhh! Did you hear [name] on the radio? They don’t believe that at all. They’re the biggest f****** party mouthpiece of all time. 2) Ha ha! [name] just got torn to shreds! Brilliant! 3) I can't believe the media rate [name] so highly. All the MP cares about is being in London, being ambitious, gossipy and getting their staff to massage their already overinflated ego!
I recently had an almighty row with my MP about casework. Basically, two of us spend our week in the constituency office doing casework, and our MP comes in on a Friday morning, demands to see our letters, and signs them without reading them. She cares only about the quantity of letters rather than the quality. The other week, she made a snide remark about the amount of letters my colleague had written – just after she'd signed a batch of letters she'd not read. I said she needed to pay more attention to the letters' contents rather than their number. I now know what it must have been like to work for Gordon Brown.
A narrow escape
I'd been charged, on my first week working for my new MP, with organising a roundtable of like-minded bods to discuss some vitally important subject. Three days prior, I sent around a confirmation email with the event details, a briefing paper stuffed with policy ideas and some rather unkind comments about the government’s position. I also, mistakenly, sent it to a Conservative researcher who has the same name as one of our Lords. I've never been more relieved to receive the reply: ‘This inbox is full.’
Dodging insults from local radio DJs, dealing with power-hungry parliamentarians and mistaken briefings -...