An Unexpected MP by Jerry Hayes Read Free Book Online Page B

courteous to me and my friends. He was a gentleman rather than a shit. But a serious player, whom I hope history will not overlook. He skilfully papered over the serious cracks within the party. He was the consummate chairman of the ’22.
    It wasn’t long before I made a very serious error of judgement. Sadly, one of many. I was approached by an emissary of Francis Pym, by now a sacked Foreign Secretary and more bitter than the lemon in his gin, asking if I wanted to join a new policy group to discuss ways in which Thatcherism could be given a more human face. It was to be called Centre Forward. I really should have seen what was going to happen next. The members were the usual suspects: Alan Haselhurst,David Knox, Hugh Dykes, Peter Temple-Morris. The decent, caring wing of the Conservative Party. And those who were rumoured to have considered defecting to the SDP in 1981.
    When I look back it was a rather tame affair, but when news leaked out the Downing Street rubbish machine went into overdrive. You have to understand that Downing Street is designed for one purpose only – to protect the Prime Minister. We were not plotting her downfall, just putting together policies that would put the government more in touch with what people really wanted. Yet at that time she didn’t need too much protection.
    It was all leaked to the
Sunday Times
, where I was pictured as a ‘leader’ of this dissident group. Half a dozen of our photographs straddled the front page, making us look like the FBI’s most wanted. Next Monday, Norman St John-Stevas spotted me in the lobby, doffed his cloth cap (yes, he really wore one, but it was probably from Lockes), grinned ‘hail to my leader’ and wiggled into the distance.
    What really screwed things up was a speech about to be given by Francis Pym. He told us that it would be mildly critical. I wish it had been. It turned into a personal attack on Thatcher as the sort of woman who hoards tinned goods in the larder. It was actually a reference to a photo shoot by the Saatchis showing her as a prudent housewife when Leader of the Opposition. My constituency association were not at all amused. And the press were after my blood. I panicked and resigned from the committee (as did Tony Baldry). That night, in the division lobby, a very angry David Knox pulled me to one side and testily called me a ‘silly, silly boy’. He was right. My error of judgement was not joining the group, but failingto have the courage to publicly argue our corner and not run away at the first whiff of cordite. What a pathetic, cowardly little fool I was. I would never make the same mistake again.
    On the night of my fall into ignominy I was invited to drinks with Transport Secretary and arch-Thatcherite Nick Ridley. He gave me some very wise advice. ‘In politics, always shoot to kill, never to wound. A wounded animal is a dangerous and unpredictable beast.’ How right he was.
    But there was one rather touching tale. After the story first broke, Alan Haselhurst and I were caught talking on a landing in hushed tones by the Lady’s PPS, Michael Alison. He even saw us exchange a package. Heaven knows what he reported back to No. 10. The truth is that Alan is one of my dearest friends (who should have been Speaker if the Amish wing of the party hadn’t blocked him). The
sotto voce
plotting we were doing was merely sorting out the dates for his godson (my son Lawrence)’s first birthday party. And the mysterious package? A handgun with ammunition? A hand grenade? A deadly poison? No, a yellow mechanical teddy bear for his cot. Thank heavens the
Mail
didn’t get hold of that one. He would have been branded the Godfather.

    One of the duller duties of an MP is to be a silent muppet on a standing committee – a phenomenal waste of time. The idea is that you are meant to scrutinise legislation. The reality was that government backbenchers were drilled not to say a word, allowing the Opposition to drone on, and then the