Standing Down (12 page)
Authors: Rosa Prince
As he prepares to leave Parliament to return to his legal practice, Mr Llwyd is looking forward to finally getting the chance to spend some quality time with the people of Wales.
He says:
I was at a cattle market some six or seven months ago. I went to the café and one of the guys there shouted at me: ‘They say you’re retiring, how old are you?’
I said, ‘I’m sixty-three.’
‘Too young to retire; you lazy or something?’
And someone in the corner said: ‘Oh, no, don’t do that, whatever else he is, he’s not lazy.’
So he said, ‘Why are you giving up then?’
‘Well,’ I said, ‘it’s just I fancy doing a day’s work in the courts, and coming back, sleeping in my own bed.’
And he said, ‘So whose bed you in in London then?’
I just didn’t have an answer, I was red as a beetroot; everybody just fell about.
Mr Llwyd confesses that he will, however, miss Parliament:
I will. I’ve made alliances with people in every party. I’ve probably been able to get things done here because I’m a people person. And in so doing I’ve also made a lot of friends with a lot of people.
It would be foolish of me to say I won’t miss it. I will miss it but I’ve also gained a heck of a lot by going, as it were, back home.
In my maiden speech I mentioned that I was unusual in that I’d come to London in order to go back. And now is the time to go back.
***
CV
Born in Betws-y-Coed, Gwynedd, and raised in Llanrwst; attended the University of Wales, Aberystwyth, and Chester Law College before qualifying as a solicitor.
1992: Elected MP for Meirionnydd Nant Conwy
1997: Becomes Plaid Cymru Westminster group leader; called to the Bar
2003: Leads opposition to war in Iraq
2004: Begins proceedings to impeach Tony Blair for misleading House over war in Iraq
2010: Re-elected on redrawn boundaries for new seat of Dwyfor Meirionnydd
2013: Announces he will be standing down at the 2015 general election
Elfyn Llwyd is married to Eleri and has two grown-up children.
Sir John Randall,
fifty-nine, was Conservative MP for Uxbridge & South Ruislip (1997–2015).
‘I’d had enough after Plebgate and the expenses scandal.’
***
It was a bit like the First World War: there was nobody left and I quickly found myself in charge [when the sitting MP, Sir Michael Shersby, died of a heart attack six days after the election, Sir John was the obvious candidate to step in].
I didn’t think I would last very long. It was a bit like being in an out-of-body experience.
Somebody once said: ‘You would make a very good regimental sergeant major. You keep people in control and everyone likes you.’
It was a hideous time [the 2010 expenses scandal]. It altered hugely the public perception of MPs and it poisoned the well for new people.
I thought if I stayed here, got elected again, allowing for another five years, I would be an old curmudgeon.
I will be looking out for certain colleagues who I hope keep their seats. I have been completely at ease with it [the decision to stand down]. Bird-watching (and wildlife) is a thing that has kept me sane and I haven’t had enough time for it.
My advice for people coming into Parliament is – why?
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the full story
In 1993 the then John Randall was running the family department store, Randalls of Uxbridge, in his hometown in the outer reaches of west London, when he visited his local MP to complain ‘in a friendly way’ about something. ‘I was unusual in that I didn’t have a dream or mission to come into Parliament,’ he said. ‘I had been interested in current affairs and news and politics, but I actually went to complain to my predecessor.’
He found himself leaving with a promise ‘in an English sort of way’ to help out in any way he could.
As the months passed and it became clear that Tony Blair was going to win power by a landslide, Tories deserted the local party one by one until ‘there was nobody left’.
On the day of the 1997 election, as Conservative seats fell ‘left, right and centre’. The sitting MP Sir Michael Shersby squeaked in by 728 votes, only to die of a heart attack six days later.
The remaining Conservatives, including Sir Michael’s widow, urged Sir John to become the candidate and, he says, convinced that Labour would carry off the seat at the by-election, Conservative HQ did not object.
He won by nearly 4,000 votes – and found himself in Parliament a few months later, disorientated and friendless, having not gone on the candidate circuit or forged a bond with fellow members of an intake.
Although he hadn’t been nervous during the election, he was unprepared for what faced him on entering the Commons:
When you are standing for the first time, it is not such a big thing as when you have a seat and want to keep it.
I was standing there and felt like I wasn’t there. It took me a long time to get used to it. I would have described myself as semi-detached. I didn’t have any chums, it took me six months to go into the smoking room and the tea room. I just sat in the chamber and listened.
After a while I gradually got to know people. The thing that saved me was that in a funny way it was a nice time to come in. For the remaining Conservatives who had come through the cull, it was a horrendous time. But for me, it was very much, ‘we few, we happy few’. It was a friendly party.
At the end of 1999, Sir John was asked to join the Whips’ Office. He believes the invitation came in part because of his relative obscurity:
If you ask members of the parliamentary party I don’t think many people would know where to place me. A lot of people thought I was a New Labour MP – I suppose it was the beard. The honest answer is that I don’t know if I could define myself. I opposed the war in Iraq, the campaign in Serbia. Yet in many ways I am a traditional Conservative. I am a loyalist and a team player. But if it comes to the real crunch, I would be happy to do my duty.
Sir John believes that a big difference between him and many other politicians is that throughout his time in Westminster he always had Randall’s store waiting for him back in Uxbridge:
I had something to go back to. I have a certain amount of independence. If I was asked to do something beyond the pale I could have upped sticks and gone. If you are so behoven to the party or being in Parliament then that is a problem.
I found my position in the Whips’ Office. I never wanted promotion. My methods are, I am good with people, I get that from being a retailer. You have to deal with people.
It is down to the nitty gritty of business management as much as anything. It is the one place where you work as a team. There is a sense of camaraderie and looking out for each other.
We might know that one of our colleagues made a mistake but to others it is collective.
But Sir John’s happy time in the Whips’ Office came to an end in 2003 when, already suspicious of the Labour government’s actions in Serbia, he resigned rather than support the invasion of Iraq, which the Conservatives were also backing:
It wasn’t that I had time for Saddam Hussein, and I am not a pacifist, but I thought, ‘If you are going to attack Iraq, you are going to have to have a plan and you are going to have to convince the British people’ – and they hadn’t done either.
People now say, ‘Well, John, you did the right thing,’ but it was quite a difficult time. It was one of the few times I couldn’t sleep. People would send me letters saying, ‘How does it feel to support murderers?’ The scales had fallen from my eyes. I was sad to leave the Whips’ Office.
Following Michael Howard’s election to the role of leader a few months later, Sir John learned he had been reappointed to his old job by reading about it in the
Telegraph
, and continued in that post in government after the 2010 election. ‘It was nice to be in government after thirteen years,’ he said. ‘The Chief Whips I have served under always recognised that I did not want their jobs. I was delighted to be their deputy. I couldn’t see the point of being the Chief Whip at the firing line.’
Three things were to colour his final years in office, and although his own behaviour had always been exemplary, they inevitably soured his experience of politics.
The Nigel Evans affair, in which he testified during the ultimately unsuccessful prosecution against the then Deputy Speaker, was a low point.
He also found himself in the unwelcome spotlight during the Andrew Mitchell case, after a police officer claiming to have been verbally abused by the Chief Whip emailed him with an account of the incident. It was reported at the time that Sir John was unhappy at working under a Chief Whip who had behaved in such a way, a suggestion he does not deny:
The whole Andrew Mitchell thing is one of the most unpleasant things to have gone on. Considering the fallout of what was just a very ill-natured exchange of less than a minute, it is incredible to think of. Throughout it all I just knew that I had been brought up to say, ‘If you are asked a question, you tell the truth.’ Because I have been on the other side of a counter, I know what it is like to be treated as if I didn’t exist.
If everybody could swap jobs now and again it would be much better.
But it was the expenses scandal that he believes had lasting repercussions in terms of attracting future talent to the House of Commons.
He himself was named as an expenses ‘angel’ by the
Telegraph
, but he was given the task of persuading his colleagues to explain, where necessary apologise and in some cases resign from their jobs, often when they continued to insist they had done nothing wrong. There was anger, recrimination and even tears:
That was very stressful. It was hard. I had to deal with people, most of them couldn’t understand what was happening. Some of them still don’t. It was a hideous time. It was very traumatic. It altered hugely the public perception of MPs and it poisoned the well for new people.
My advice for people coming into Parliament is – why?
I’m lucky enough to be able to subsidise it but other people coming in can’t. I think we did what we had to do but it is nothing to be proud of. I don’t think it helped the public perception of us. I’m hoping things will change. Some people still will have an itch to scratch.
So why is he leaving?
Eighteen years will be enough. I have been in opposition, I have been in government. The nature of the job seems to be changing. I thought if I stayed here, got elected again, allowing for another five years, I would be an old curmudgeon. My memories by and large are that on a good day it is probably the best job in the world.
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CV
Born and raised in Uxbridge; attended University of London; became managing director of the family department store.
1997: Elected MP for Uxbridge at a by-election
1999: Becomes opposition whip
2003: Resigns over opposition to the Iraq invasion; reappointed to Whips’ Office following election of Michael Howard
2009: Takes charge of Conservative response to expenses scandal
2010: Becomes Deputy Chief Whip following election of coalition
2012: Caught up in Andrew Mitchell affair
2013: Leaves government and is knighted
2014: Caught up in Nigel Evans scandal; announces he will not stand for re-election
Sir John Randall is married to Kate and has three grown-up children.
Mike Weatherley,
fifty-seven, was Conservative MP for Hove (2010–15).
‘If someone dropped out of a seat at the eleventh hour and they asked me to stand, would I? I don’t know.’
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There was an advert in the paper looking for local politicians and my wife at the time said, ‘You’re always shouting at the television, why don’t you put yourself forward?’ So I did.
You kind of expect the Queen’s messenger to ride through on a white horse to knight you on the shoulders and give you a summons, but the reality is you get an envelope that says turn up Monday and bring your passport.
I have had two main high points: One is the number of people who have written to me thanking me for changing the law [on squatting]. It was so particularly terrible before. And being appointed the intellectual property adviser to the Prime Minister was a real high.
When I told the Prime Minister I was standing down it was probably the most difficult day of my life. I had to say to him: ‘That’s it, I’m definitely, definitely stepping down.’ There’s no way back from that.
At that stage I hadn’t had the all-clears from the cancer so I didn’t know what the future was holding … If my health was at all at risk and I wasn’t going to be able to give it 100 per cent it wouldn’t be fair on my helpers and the party to retain the seat.
I was diagnosed with stage three cancer. That was in 2012. And I had an operation to remove my oesophagus in April 2012. The doctor said that if I had waited until the summer, which I was going to do, I would be dead by Christmas most probably.
I’ve now got the all-clear from the cancer so it looks like we’ve managed to beat it. So I could have stood again but my family were saying: ‘Now we’ve made this decision we’re kind of looking forward to you doing things like normal holidays, normal weekends.’
Maybe five years is a bit short. And of course if I hadn’t had the cancer scare I probably would have done [longer]. I always wanted to do two terms. Goodness, it’s a hypothetical situation but let’s just say if someone dropped out of a seat at the eleventh hour and they asked me to stand, would I stand? I don’t know the answer. You want to go back to a normal life but you want to do your best here. Let the party chairman know!
Hell yeah! I’m sure every MP standing down has regrets about doing it. I won’t go to the count because it would just be too painful. I will be glued to the television though and I will wish I was there, of course.
I will go back to the film industry on the licensing side. It will be a roving role that will take in the centre of the film area in America, in LA.
I would argue there are some MPs who have been here a long time and it would be useful if it was refreshed, on all sides. I think that every minister and every secretary of state needs to be turned over to someone new every five years.
This isn’t a call for a new Prime Minister [but] if he was still the Prime Minister in 2021, I would be a little bit concerned. I’m hoping he’ll be the Prime Minister in 2015.
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the full story
Mike Weatherley’s interest in Conservative politics began in an unlikely place: the student union of South Bank University in 1976, where, with a group of friends, he physically broke a left-wing student boycott of the canteen.
They went on to set up a Conservative club and invited guest speakers including Ted Heath and Keith Joseph, the architect of what would become known as Thatcherism. It was the latter who changed the young Mike Weatherley’s life.
He says:
He did a speech on free-market economies and after that I realised I was a Conservative through the free-market mechanism. I would have been nineteen.
Then I dropped out of politics and got involved in business. Fast forward to 1999, and the local party (I was in the Lewes constituency) were looking for people to take part.
Like a lot of people I didn’t know how to do it [become an MP] but, being in the party, I was given help and in ’99 or 2000 I joined the candidates’ list and fought the election in Barking [east London] in 2001.
That was a baptism of fire. Safe Labour seat. We had a brick through the car window on polling day. There was one estate that the police wouldn’t let me walk on with my rosette without their protection, so it was a bit rough, but I loved it. It was a no-hoper situation [but] I wanted to give people an alternative, and I wanted to do well – and I did. I got, I think it was the twenty-ninth highest swing in the country, but I still lost badly. It was fun. I felt I was actually helping in some way.
I stayed a member of the party and in 2005 I was selected to fight my local seat, which was Brighton Pavillion. It was Labour at the time, strong Labour, and I got a top thirty swing again.
When it came to 2010 when I was selected for Hove, we had really honed our campaigning skills. I had lived there pretty much all my life [and] I had been the candidate in Pavillion so people knew me.
We always knew Hove was going to be a marginal. Tony Blair said when he knew he’d won Hove he knew he’d won the election. Winning Hove was just very special. A great feeling. I just remember my daughter, she was sixteen or seventeen, she ran through the door and gave me a big hug. The whole family was wishing this.
We were all in the hotel next door watching the TV screens, there were fifty supporters waiting for the result to come through. It was late. It was 5.30 a.m.
It ebbed and flowed. At one point we thought we were winning, then we thought Labour had it, and then by the end we thought we had it. And of course we did – [by] 1,898 [votes]. When you’re campaigning, the winning takes over rather than what’s going to happen after the winning. So I wasn’t too sure what to expect after I won.
Mr Weatherley arrived at Westminster knowing only a few other MPs, but found it a ‘very friendly place’. His expectation that most of his time would be spent in the chamber of the House of Commons was swiftly dispelled and instead he busied himself in learning how best to help his new constituents – which led him down avenues he had not expected:
Everyone was keen to talk and get to know people. It’s like going to a new school, everyone is finding out everything about everyone else. It was a very friendly place, it was an exciting place to come, there was lots to do.
It’s not like a slick corporate operation, which in my case you expect coming from the business community. You gear yourself up for those debating chambers when there’s so much other work to be done.
One of the most bizarre things is every constituent expects you to be an expert on day one on their subject. There’s no give or take, it’s: ‘What do you mean you don’t know about the gluten-free range of sandwiches?’
So you have to learn things very, very quickly and you become an expert on things you never thought you’d become an expert on. In my case an example would be squatting and residential laws. I had no idea about the law on squatting at the time.
I had a situation in my constituency where a lady died and her family came down to sort out their mother’s affairs and these squatters had taken possession of their mother’s house. They were looking through the window and they could see all these things being destroyed. They literally were in tears. It took them ten weeks and £13,000 to go through the courts and evict them. They said [to me], ‘Surely this is wrong?’
I found out the laws on squatting very quickly, how it all worked and why those laws existed, and we went about changing them.
We are now back on par with the rest of the world and it’s a good law, so we’re very happy. [But] there are people who aren’t happy with the [new] law. I still get death threats.
Not long after the new squatting laws were introduced, a homeless man was found frozen to death outside an empty bungalow in Essex. To his distress, some squatters’ groups tried to blame him for the tragedy:
People like to try to affix blame where they can. The reality is the local authority should have done more for that particular individual. They shouldn’t have turned him away. I think we put enough safeguards in to make sure that doesn’t happen.
I still get death threats, there’s a website set up for my death. The family don’t like that. It is objectionable.
I went to see the Occupy movement in Brighton. They said we represent 99 per cent of the people, and the squatters often say they do as well. And I say to each one of them: ‘I will pay your deposit to stand against me, to put your point to the electorate. If you think you can beat me on that I’ll happily help you do that.’
But they refused to take me up on the offer. There is a democratic process and you can’t just take the law into your own hands because you don’t like something. That’s just ridiculous.
As well as being in the crosshairs of the anarchists, Mr Weatherley found himself a target of the press when, a few months after he was elected, the
Daily Mirror
splashed him on the front page under the headline: ‘Tory MP’s wife working as a prostitute’.
The couple were separated by then, but that fact was not made clear until the last line of the article, something Mr Weatherley is still smarting about:
Bizarre. It was on the front page. Bizarre. I still to this day don’t understand why people like to read this kind of thing, but they do. I guess it introduced me to journalism, can we call it that?
I don’t talk about it, I’m not going to start now. What I would say is I was fully separated from her.
When I talk to people about why they don’t get involved in politics, they cite that particular example, and others, where they say, ‘Why would anyone want to put themselves up for that type of treatment?’
In that particular example, we weren’t talking about policy, we weren’t talking about how the government was run – it was tittle tattle that people just wanted to pull an MP down. That seems to be something people enjoy reading about. I suppose it’s entertainment value.
He was also ‘annoyed’ a few years later when, after he had joined a group of MPs calling for greater regulation of the press, the
Telegraph
ran an article featuring a photograph of the couple and referred to the scandal:
You don’t want to not do something because you’re frightened of what the press might say or [because] a small minority of the public might be anarchists, might plot to kill you.
There are many colleagues here who are intimidated, who won’t put their head above the parapet on certain issues because they do not want the press intrusion or some of the flack they will get. And I think that’s a bad thing.
On a happier note, in 2013 Mr Weatherley was asked by David Cameron to share his expertise from his entertainment background in the role of intellectual property adviser:
He didn’t set down a defined ‘you must do this, you must do that’, and I think that was the right thing to do. It entailed what I wanted it to entail.
We have an IP minister who is the government’s voice, so I think what he wanted to do is to have someone who could open some discussion documents, push the boundaries and go where an IP minister maybe couldn’t. So I took it upon myself to do various reports and open the debate.
I know that he’s talked warmly about my role as his IP adviser and I think he has been very grateful for the work I have done. I know he has, because he’s sent me letters.
Five years ago the IP direction of this country was in the wrong way. We weren’t really robust in our policies. What I have done is put the brakes on that, we have turned that around.
A year later, however, Mr Weatherley was forced to speak to the Prime Minister on a more personal matter – his decision to resign from Parliament after a cancer scare. It was the hardest thing he had ever had to do:
I had all the radiotherapy and the chemotherapy and it makes you evaluate. I’m stuck here within eight minutes of the division bell at any one time, quite often ’til late at night.
We don’t see our families very often. We might see them [at] weekends but then we’re off campaigning very often and doing constituency things. My kids were saying we would like to see more of you.
It’s very difficult to turn round [to them] and say: ‘There’s no guarantee of me winning, it’s still going to be much less than I could earn in the private sector, I’m still going to be away from you most of the time, and I still want to do this.’
And of course I do want to do this, I love this job, it is a good job to do. But there are other things to do.
Of course I would love to be the IP minister, of course I would love to be. But I have to balance the family.
Conscious of the need of his constituency to bed in a new candidate, Mr Weatherley announced his decision to stand before getting the all-clear. Now it appears that he has beaten the cancer, he is somewhat regretful about his decision – but understands his children’s desire for him to take on a less demanding, and less intrusive, role:
They get associated with me rather than in their own right. My daughter ran a very successful music festival in Brighton but in the local paper, half the article was: ‘She’s the daughter of a politician’. It was nothing to do with me, I had nothing at all to do with that festival, and it’s like: ‘Dammit, Dad, get out of my life. I’ll be my own person.’
While he understands his family’s desire for him to step away from politics, Mr Weatherley’s reluctance to leave is very apparent: