Being a journalist at Westminster is all about right place, right time

The National

11 hours ago

SOMETIMES you nearly miss the story.
During this week's lengthy debate on the welfare bill, I decided that I'd take a break to stretch my legs, get a bit of fresh air and smoke a cigarette.
There had been reports that Social Security Minister Stephen Timms was going to scrap much of the welfare bill, which we'd covered in our live blog already.
Ministers speak at the beginning and end of debates and the bill was due to go to a vote at around 7pm, so I was expecting Timms to reveal this then. Just before 5.30pm, I got up from my desk, had a fag, had a bit of a natter with two MPs and returned to my desk.
Timms (below) had, in my absence, made an intervention in the debate and announced from the despatch box that he was gutting the Government's flagship welfare bill of its most controversial reforms.
(Image: UK Parliament)
I thought it was rather inconsiderate of him as I had to tear up the story I'd prepared on the cuts to Personal Independence Payments passing.
Clearly, the Government had felt less confident about that prospect than I was. Timms is an old hand and seemed to take the absurdity of his position – announcing mid-debate that the bill MPs were voting on had been whittled down to a nub – in his stride.
Labour backbenchers' incredulity was summed up ably by Ian Lavery, who, with dollops of Geordie gusto, denounced the Government: 'This is crazy, man! This is outrageous, man! This bill isn't fit for purpose.'
The following day at Prime Minister's Questions, I took my usual spot in the press gallery. Out of habit, I sit on the side facing the opposition benches. Labour backbenchers sit below my feet and I can see the backs of the frontbenchers' heads.
It was, from where I was sitting (and I use the phrase advisedly), an exceptionally dull PMQs.
(Image: House of Commons/PA Wire)
After around 20 tedious minutes, the woman sitting beside me gave me an elbow: 'Rachel Reeves is crying.'
No she isn't, I thought. Then she showed me the video. We both scuttled around to the other side.
She looked rough alright, but at a distance, it was hard to say anything definitively. I messaged my colleagues who quickly ascertained that she was indeed crying.
In a moment indicative of my instinctively conspiratorial mind, I googled the pollen count in London that day, in case the Government tried to attribute it to hay fever. Unless she was especially sensitive to mould, thought I, there is no way they are blaming this on allergies.
As it turned out, Reeves had been left shattered by the blow to her authority when her £5 billion cuts to welfare were tossed to avoid a Labour mutiny. That, coupled with a telling off from Mr Speaker, seemed to tip her over the edge. Hard to have much sympathy with her in the circumstances.
Quite why she or anyone around her thought it was a good idea to have her in front of a TV camera after bursting into tears, we will never really know.
But in a roundabout way, it seems to give her position greater certainty.
The market reaction proved that traders fear a return to the chopping and changing which characterised the Tory years or the prospect of a more left-wing chancellor; though who that might be is quite beyond me.
At dinner on Thursday night, I check my phone in a spare moment to find out that Zarah Sultana has said she is leaving Labour to lead a new left-wing party with Jeremy Corbyn.
Having learned the lessons of the previous days, I hit the phones only to find that there was a reception problem affecting exclusively left-wing Labour people. Most curious.
The radio silence seemed to confirm reports that Corbyn had been blindsided by the announcement.
The moral of the story? Inconclusive, I'm afraid. I don't think any valuable lessons can be taken from the events of this week ... other than being in the right place at the right time.
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