An Unexpected MP: Confessions of a Political Gossip
'Some people enter politics because they want to make the world a better place. Then there are those with well-deserved inferiority complexes who want status, power and position. Few believe me, but I entered the House of Commons purely by accident.' High virtue in high office? Not a chance, says Jerry Hayes. No staid autobiography or dry political memoir, An Unexpected MP takes you on a raucous and salacious romp through Westminster, the media and public life. In this no-holds-barred expose, Jerry Hayes shows exactly why people were so surprised when he became an MP - from the duty policeman who told him to bugger off when he rolled up on his first day, to the Iron Lady herself, who looked with a steely eye on his cheerful chutzpah. And, as the perfect antidote to the holier-than-thou, whiter-than-white ways of the current crop of politicos, the shameless - and shamelessly entertaining - Hayes makes a brilliant tour guide to the strange country that is Parliament, taking gleeful swipes at left and right alike. Full of tall tales of unspeakable debauchery on a tsunami of alcohol, An Unexpected MP is a thundering account of the offbeat lunacy of Westminster and Fleet Street.
me how Harold Macmillan had invited him in to discuss the possibility of his joining the government. Edward expressed concern about needing to earn some money (like me, he was always fairly broke). In times of difficulty, Mac always poured a large sherry. Du Cann joined the government. Over the years he attracted rather a bad press, somewhat unfairly. But he was always kind and courteous to me and my friends. He was a gentleman rather than a shit. But a serious player, whom I hope history will
totally unexpectedly beat Sir Dingle Foot in Ipswich in 1970. Ernle didn’t even bother to roll up for the count; he just went to the White Swan and got very, very drunk. When his agent realised that Ernle was going to win and have to make a speech he scoured the pubs and eventually found him in a heap. The poor chap couldn’t even walk, let alone talk. So the agent went back and made the speech for him, along the lines that Mr Money held Sir Dingle in such high esteem he felt it quite
between the party leaders to fudge MPs’ pay, as there is no popular time to announce an increase. The Faustian pact was low pay in return for generous allowances. Sadly, in 2005, when Gordon Brown was throwing money around like a drunken sailor, it got totally out of control. MPs were entitled to tax allowances for food, gardening and just about anything that an inventive and imaginative mind could make a claim for. Worse, they were encouraged to claim for the maximum that they could, on the
department worked seamlessly with the NUM and that any plans he might be developing would be on Scargill’s desk within the hour. Walker countered this by bypassing the Whitehall machine, ensuring his private office dealt directly only with fellow Cabinet members’ private offices. Secret and confidential papers were biked to them directly. He took his department completely out of the insecure Whitehall loop. Peter was the first Cabinet minister to invite backbenchers to lunch in his office. I
Speedos and was told that she was going to rescue me from drowning in a nearby swimming pool and we’d all pretend to do it in slow motion. The trouble was it was then midwinter, with the snow still on the ground. So I was chucked in the pool, dragged out, and laid by the side of the road while this woman with child-bearing lips and implants that could raise the Costa Concordia proceeded to attempt mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. This caused great amusement to the straggle of drunks and druggies who