Sketch: A Commons love-in
There’s an ancient myth the Palace of Westminster will collapse if “it’s an end of an era” is said 500 times in half an hour. It was disproved on Thursday evening.
The chamber of the House of Commons is usually a place of conflict, bitterness, even hatred. The two sets of benches are two swords’ lengths apart, for heaven’s sake. Yet this evening the Palace of Westminster, bathed in a warm evening glow, was a place of affection and tenderness.
Nearly 150 MPs are standing down, more even than after the Second World War. A good portion of them were in the chamber for one last time as the expenses parliament met for the last time. It was a time to set aside old grievances. It was a time for the human side of politicians to shine through.
“Parliament is accordingly prorogued,” Baroness Royall of Blaisdon said at the vital moment in the Lords. After the end of her lengthy speech, a message from the Queen no less, the microphones were accidentally left on.
She was heard to apologise for the way she read the message to Lord Strathclyde, the leader of the opposition. Did he mock her cruelly? Of course not. He reassured her that she had delivered it “very well”.
MPs gathered in the upper House included Ian Paisley, finally leaving Westminster behind after four lengthy – and eventful – decades. There was Sir Nicholas Winterton, a man whom it is virtually impossible to refer to without adding ‘Tory grandee’. And there was West Ham MP Lyn Jones – sources say she fell over, before accusing the doorkeepers of not keeping the carpet straight.
This was a minor kerfuffle, however, for in the Commons soon afterwards the scene was even more sentimental. MPs were lining up to shake the hands of two key figures: first Speaker John Bercow, who was standing where the clerks usually do; and, behind his chair, leader of the House Harriet Harman.
The end-of-term feeling was overwhelming, with its usual mixture of emotions. There was a lot of firm handshaking, awkward Harman-kissing moments galore and various patting of bodily parts, including backs, shoulders, forearms and elbows. A bearded official of some kind kept repeating “it’s the end of an era” in a booming voice not afraid of betraying emotion.
Not all were playing ball. Dennis Skinner, having chattered with frontbench companion Andrew Mackinlay for one last time on the green benches, sauntered off contemptuously. And, of course, not all MPs were there to say their goodbyes at all.
Politics never stops, though, which is why Harman’s conversation with Brown-basher James Purnell was so interesting. They chatted amiably enough, all differences forgotten – until the appearance of Des Browne – an ex-Cabinet member who, you know, didn’t resign in a deliberate attempt to remove the prime minister from Downing Street. Purnell slipped away quickly as Harman’s body language suddenly relaxed.
Outside, the sun was slowly setting on one of the most notorious and unpopular parliaments for decades.
