And another thing…

“I wish to respond to speculation in this morning’s newspapers that I vote Conservative. It has also been suggested that in 2001, when my husband, the Labour MP Tom Harris, first stood for parliament, I campaigned actively for his Tory, nationalist, Liberal and Trotskyist opponents. It is also reported that I tampered with the brakes on his car just before he drove to the council headquarters to lodge his nomination papers. This allegation, along with the allegation that I stood outside a polling station holding a placard reading “Anyone But Harris!!” and shouting into the faces of elderly voters cannot be proved.

“I will, of course, offer my husband the same level of support at this election that I have always offered.”

YESTERDAY and the day before, as with so many weekends in the past months, I was out canvassing with Team Labour in Glasgow South.

Now, I fully comprehend just how ridiculous this activity looks to normal, well-adjusted adults. Knocking on the doors of complete strangers asking them their opinion about politics, of all things! How anti-social is that…?

The very first time I ever canvassed, it was actually for my local church, rather than for the Labour Party. It didn’t go well. But, as I discovered then and as has been confirmed on every subsequent occasion when the purpose was saving deposits rather than saving souls, it can be a very satisfying experience.

But like many activities that are “good for you”, canvassing is something you enjoy while you’re doing it, rather than in advance of it. Let’s face it: spending the morning or afternoon in the warmth and comfort of your own house is a far more attractive proposition, even in the run-up to a general election.

But it has to be done – even in a so-called “safe” seat like Glasgow South.

I first started canvassing in a regular, “professional” way in the run-up to the 1987 general election in Glasgow Cathcart. The rules were simple: you’re on the doorstep not to persuade recalcitrant voters to switch to Labour, but simply to identify whether or not someone is going to vote Labour. If they are, great. If not, move on.

The techniques have changed over the years – I still have no idea why we write “S” against the name of a LibDem voter, for example – but the ethos remains the same: identify where the Labour vote is.

As a candidate, the canvassing experience is subtly different from that of a foot soldier. For a start, it is an extremely (and genuinely) humbling experience to see local party activists giving up their own free time to chap doors with me. Yes, they’re doing it for the party rather than for a specific candidate, but I certainly wouldn’t get elected if it were not for them.

Similarly, it’s a humbling experience to meet householders who are happy to state their political preferences in my favour, particularly when those voters first voted Labour in a general election that took place before I was born.

You would expect any MP or candidate to say that local canvassing is very positive, that the response of voters has been warm and friendly. If it wasn’t, we wouldn’t say so publicly. Nevertheless, I am invariably pleasantly surprised by the general reaction from people on the doorstep to a visit from their MP. If my being there gives someone an unexpected opportunity to air their greivances, then that’s a useful exercise. But more often than not, people are polite and courteous. And, crucially, they enjoy being asked for their opinion.

As to the actual results of the exercise, people who know far better than I how to anayse canvass returns are, even now, examining the numbers, punching buttons on calculators and muttering indecipherable comments to themselves. They tend to share their conclusions with others – including me – on a “need to know” basis.

Yes, there are aspects to canvassing that are less encouraging than others; “It’s a secret ballot, I don’t have to tell you who I’m voting for.” Gosh, really? A secret ballot? I never knew that…

And there are always the rude ones who slam the door in your face, or who sometimes follow you down the garden path in order to hand back the leaflet you’ve just pushed through their letter box. And why not? If it gives someone a strange sense of satisfaction to “stick it to the man”, then fair enough. That’s engagement as well, I suppose.

Hard though it is to believe at the moment, the election will soon be over and a short period of grass roots political inactivity will ensue thereafter. But only for a short period. There are very few springs from which elections of some description are missing, and even in vote-free years, well-organised parties continue their voter identification activities.

It’s not everyone’s cup of tea, and even for those of us who actually enjoy it, the handing back of the clipboards is far more pleasant than the initial discussion about which street will be the first to enjoy our attentions.

But for politicians and the politically-inclined, it’s a fundamental and inevitable element of life.

And there’s no end in sight to it yet.

Ah, well. Good for the soul, and all that.

JUST a few days after I was elected in 2001, a neighbour of mine said in a not-particularly-friendly way to me: “You have to do what we tell you now!”

Strangely, I did not interpret my new job and the relationship that now existed between me and my constituents in quite that way. Yes, MPs are representatives of the people. But there have been occasions in the last nine years where I’ve had to say “no” to a request for representation from a constituent. Good MPs know how to say “no”, because occasionally – rarely, thankfully – that’s the most appropriate response to a request for help.

We do, of course, have a duty to consider representing any constituent who comes to us for help. But one of the qualities MPs should be expected to have is judgment. And that judgment should be used to discern whether a constituent is deserving of representation. For instance, a few years ago I was asked to represent a gentleman who claimed to be suffering undue harrassment from his neighbours and the police. it turned out he was the perpetrator, not the victim. I informed him to get a lawyer and that I would not help him.

There have been others. As I say, thankfully few.

So when Nicola Sturgeon claims she had “a duty” to interfere in a court case of one of her (and my) constituents, she was clealry wrong. Was she dissembling or is she such a naive newcomer to politics that she doesn’t understand the work and duties of an elected representative?

Her boss, the First Minister, tried to use this “duty” excuse when he wrote to the Home Office asking that a failed asylum seeker and convicted drug dealer be allowed to work in the UK.

My guess is they are both intelligent and experienced enough to know that in neither case did they have any obligation whatever to represent these constituents, and certainly not in the way they chose to represent them. They know that no such “duty” exists, and yet they claim it does.

Maybe power has gone to their heads. Maybe after less than three years in office, they already believe not that they should do right, but that whatever they do is therefore, by definition, right.

MY CONSTITUENCY office received a phone call yesterday from a local man who’s apparently due in court in the near future. He called me because he wants a “letter of reference” from me which he can use in his defence.

Not only did the gentleman in question refuse to give any specific details about what he had been charged with, but he admitted that he has met me just once, “about eight years ago.”

Obviously the request was denied on the grounds that I cannot testify to the good character of someone I cannot ever recall meeting, especially someone who was being deliberately vague about the charges he faces in court.

But MPs get these requests all the time. And certain constituents tend to regard such letters as their right and can’t understand why I would decline their requests. “You people come round our doors looking for votes!” said my irate constituent yesterday, as if the fact of being elected obliges an MP to do exactly what we are told, even if doing so could effectively be construed as perverting the course of justice.

Another vote lost.

THIS MORNING I performed one of my last official duties of the year, when I presented Veterans’ Badges and Normandy Bars to constituents.

I am genuinely in awe of the men and women who risked everything to serve our country in our armed forces. And to meet three men who actually fought at Normandy in 1944 was almost overwhelming. One of them, now aged 91, has been married for 67 years. I cannot express adequately how honoured I felt to meet them and to make the presentation to them.

I’ve presented Veterans’ badges to a large number of ex-servicemen and women over the years. They and their families always consider it an important occasion and usually accompany their loved ones for the very informal ceremony.

The Normandy Bar was issued this year by the French authorities to mark the 65th anniversary of the D-Day landings.

THIS IS what I like about my constituents – they don’t beat about the bush. Straight to the point, no messing. I received this by email yesterday…

I can’t see a bloody thing. It is dark outside and we have run out of light bulbs that have anything other than a glow. I am stuck with a 60watt bulb in a room with a ceiling that an athlete couldn’t reach. Which bunch of well meaning but utterly misguided idiots decreed that to have 100watt conventional light bulbs was bad? It has to be longlife low-light bulbs or nothing.

My solution is to borrow my wife’s spotlight that she uses for sewing and have it on as well. So now instead of having 100 watts, I am burning 2×60 i.e 120 watts. As you must be aware half the nation has stockpiled 100 watt bulbs, I am part of the other half.

Without being too hasty, I promise you my vote if you bring back proper, enlightening, illuminating lightbulbs.

It is these little things, as well as Iraq etc that make the difference between a good MP and an other kind.

Regards

PS thanks for the Christmas card
HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO YOU AND YOUR FAMILY

Sadly, I wasn’t far-thinking enough to stock up either. I wish I had, then I could at least have lent my constituent a couple of them to see him through. As it were…

A FEW years ago I made a speech in a church in my constituency; the general theme was the importance of the role of older people in society, but I took the opportunity to talk more widely about the benefits culture and to bemoan (not for the first time, and certainly not the last) the levels of incapacity benefit claimants in Glasgow.

My comments were well received and afterwards I was circulating during the tea and scones before heading off to my next appointment. A woman who reminded me of my father’s saying – “I wouldn’t go home to her with a broken pay packet” – approached me and said that her husband was claiming incapacity benefit and that she found my comments offensive.

“Well, you have every right to feel offended,” I replied.

What else could I say? I wasn’t going to apologise for saying what I felt was the truth. I had already, in my original comments, made all the obligatory qualifications one has to when talking about this subject. Politics – real, important politics – should be challenging and occasionally that means they will be offensive to certain individuals and groups of people. Cosy, comfortable, inoffensive politics are of no interest to anyone other than LibDems.

And as I’ve written here before, being offended is hardly the worst experience you can suffer.

So I was delighted to read this very sensible offering today from Shazia Mirza, who says what I’m trying to say here but better and, well, less offensively.

THIS year’s Labour Party conference is the first at which I won’t be present since 2005. That was the year we had an unexpected Scottish Parliament by-election in my seat (which we unexpectedly won) and I calculated – correctly – that I could make more of a contribution here than in Brighton.

This year’s conference season, of course, will be the last before the general election and for political anoraks will be fascinating as a result. I’ll miss it, naturally. As I wrote last year, I love conference. I love the gossip, I love seeing old friends I haven’t seen since the last conference, I love being utterly immersed in politics and surrounded by others equally immersed. It’s far more political than any week in parliamnt, so I guess it’s just as well it lasts less than a week.

I’ll probably go next year. Might be more interesting then, anyway.

MY LATEST Audioboo effort. It’s just over four minutes long:

THERE’S nothing quite like having to make a phone call to BT to make me feel depressed.

Following the expenses scandal, I decided I had better make sure all my own receipts for phone bills from the constituency office were in order. So weeks ago I asked BT to send me paper bills which properly itemised exactly what I was paying each month (the internet versions were incomprehensible to me and made no reference to the monthly payment plan I’ve had for years).

Helpfully, they sent me a statement which read: “There is no change required to your monthly payment plan at present.” There was no reference to what I’m actually paying under the plan.

Yeah, that’s really helpful; I can see the Fees Office accepting that as proof that I’ve paid out a specific sum for phone calls. So, unwisely, I called BT to ask if they could send me more details. I say “unwisely”, because as I write, the call is continuing. I’ve been on hold for 17 minutes now. This is how the call started, after I’d introduced myself as the MP for Glasgow South:

Me: Could you send me out an itemised bill so I can prove how much the monthly payment is for?

BT: Which county council do you represent?

Me: I don’t. We don’t have county councils in Scotland.

BT: So whereabouts in the Scottish Parliament…-

Me: I’m not a member of the Scottish Parliament.

BT: Are you an MSP?

Me: No, I’m a Member of Parliament. You know, the House of Commons?

BT: What exactly is it you need?

Me: The latest statement you sent me just reads: “There is no change required to your monthly payment plan at present.” I don’t think I can claim reimbursement based on that. I need an actual figure.

BT: I’ll have to transfer you. You should call 0800 *** ****.

Me: I did. You picked it up.

BT: Oh. Can you hold?

Me: Sure.

Ten minutes later, I started writing this post, and a couple of minutes ago a very helpful person from BT corporate affairs came on the line. She assured me she’ll get it sorted out, but why on earth does it need someone from corporate affairs to organise the printing out of a bill? It’s extremely frustrating to have to jump through hoops simply to get a very simple and straightforward piece of information. And the problem is, with BT, I’ve come to expect it.