Yahoo News ‘I work for an MP: From tantrums to toxic friendships, here’s what you need to know about Westminster ahead of the election’
Note: Details have been changed to preserve anonymity
Standing under an ornate ceiling in the Central Lobby of the Houses of Parliament, I’m surrounded by journalists, tourists and statues when my phone rings. It’s my employer, let’s call her Vicky. Before the election was called, Vicky was a prominent Member of Parliament.*
I am her parliamentary aide, which involves everything from speech writing and giving policy advice, to accompanying Vicky to events and… picking up her dry cleaning.
Vicky is cursing down the line.
“Have you seen? Have you fucking seen what he’s done?”
“Who?” I ask.
“That sneaky bastard! I have a holiday booked, I’m meant to be going to Ithaca!” Vicky snaps. “We're not ready for an election, they [the constituents] all hate me!”
“Is he definitely calling it for July?” I ask, legging it towards Vicky’s office.
Vicky ignores me.
“I don’t deserve this! I am not giving up my holiday while my husband gets to lie around sipping mojitos.”
“Sorry, Vicky.”
“Stop talking. I don’t have time for this. Just fix it.”
“Fix what?”
The line goes dead.
I can hear her shouting as I make my way along the corridor. Vicky bursts out of her office, heading towards me.
“I'm not cancelling my holiday to campaign. I'm not!”
“Ok.”
“Well, you obviously don’t care. I bet you’ve been sitting around drinking cappuccinos, not working, while I have to drink this,” she waves a detox juice at me. “I bet you’re not drinking muck for breakfast.”
A passing staffer raises his eyebrows.
“Shall we go inside the office?” I suggest.
“Don't you patronise me. Do not. Not today!”
“Everything alright, Vicky?” asks a passing MP as he walks by.
“Oh darling, how are you? Come in,” Vicky ushers him over. “Ready for the election?”
“Off you go sweetie,” she pats my shoulders. The door closes.
Dealing with Vicky’s moods and uncertainty about when the next election will be called is not what I imagined my life would look like when I chose to do a politics degree. I landed my first role as a parliamentary aide five years ago, and back then, I wanted to understand why the government’s approach to everything from climate change to sex work seemed so horribly outdated – and to change it.
During my time in Westminster, I’ve found parliamentary assistants, researchers and political advisors (like me) can have a meaningful influence on new laws – and can even help change the government’s approach – but it all depends on the MP we work for. First, when you apply for a role with an MP, it’s important to pick someone likely to be voted back into Parliament at the next election, otherwise you’ll be out of a job along with them.
Second, you need to make sure the MP is a reasonable human being. Some MPs are hard-working and conscientious, doing their best to push forward change they believe in, and working as a staffer to one of them means the speeches you write and campaigns you organise can have an outsized impact. Then there are the MPs, who behave like a mad Roman emperor, screaming bloody murder one moment and crying the next. If you’re saddled with a Roman Emperor, in my experience, a lot of your time is spent cajoling the MP into doing their work and soothing their ego.
Take a few weeks back, when my colleague Sadie* and I waited outside Vicky’s flat in the rain, desperately hoping she would finally let us brief her before a TV debate on a divisive and thorny topic. Vicky had been avoiding us for days. First, she had a headache. Then a ‘family thing’. Finally, she had to dash to an ‘urgent appointment’ (at the nail salon).
It’s my job to make sure Vicky says the right thing when she speaks on emotive issues. If she gets her lines wrong, her office will be inundated with thousands of angry letters and phone calls. If she goes too far to condemn or promote a policy that’s not been sanctioned by her own party, she risks irritating her party’s leadership and spoiling her chances of a promotion to a ministerial position.
With 20 minutes before Vicky had to leave for the studio, it was my last chance. For the ninth time, I rang the doorbell. At last, Vicky appeared and as I started explaining what she needed to remember ahead of the interview, she cut me off.
“I really like your dress. Give me a twirl!”
I dutifully twirl.
“He’s going to ask what your–”
“You know what I really need? A shrimp avocado salad from Pret. Would you mind?”
“We only have 20 minutes.”
“I have a headache and haven’t eaten.”
Sadie sprints off to Pret.
“I can’t talk until I’ve eaten.”
Silently, I hand Vicky a copy of her lines. She barely reads them.
Hours later, after a car crash interview marked with awkward silences (and a lot of smirking by the producer), Vicky lays into Sadie and I outside of the studio.
“I wasn’t properly briefed!”
Inside Westminster...
As difficult as Vicky can be, I think deep down she means well – and it’s easy to see how MPs can end up like her. Westminster’s toxic mix of proximity to power, intense media scrutiny and desperate ambition can bring out the worst in people. With Parliamentary debates filmed and blips circulated on social media within minutes, public ridicule is only one misstep away.
Aside from the predictable media obsession with (in particular female) MPs’ appearances, MPs must also live with the terrifying knowledge that their political opponents are actively searching for information to discredit them with. It’s no secret that staffers get brownie points for digging up dirt. Add in Parliament’s lively rumour mill, fuelled by several onsite bars and it doesn’t take long for details of an MP’s past misbehaviour or embarrassing family member to spread. Vicky takes the pressure to keep up a reputation in this environment to heart. Is another MP reading Ulysses? She’s read it twice. Is a colleague volunteering at a food bank? Vicky just donated a grand to the Red Cross.
In addition to the high workloads and very late nights (which can be especially difficult for those with caring responsibilities – majority women – or chronic health conditions), MPs have to contend with the risk of violence. The murders of Labour MP Jo Cox, by a far-right terrorist in 2016, and Conservative MP David Amess in 2021, are never far from their minds and sadly it won’t come as a surprise that Black or Asian female MPs are the ones who receive the most abuse. On top of that, there are still older male MPs and staffers who cannot stop ogling staff. Whenever I see one particular MP, he is always staring at my chest – nodding and saying hello makes no difference, so intent is he upon my breasts. Unfortunately, investigations into politicians accused of inappropriate behaviour or assault can still take years, so accountability seems a long way off.
Calling out this racism and misogyny, in a place ruled by arcane codes of conduct and overpopulated by signet-ring-wearing Andrews and Hamishes, is an uphill battle. As is making progress to improve reproductive rights or to introduce a rent cap. What’s worse, Parliament is also a hotspot for people who want to use their time in public office to get into more lucrative careers. Whether it’s Matt Hancock in sunglasses and a semi-unbuttoned white shirt flexing by the lifts or Michael Fabricant jumping the coffee queue, there are strong minor celebrity vibes about the place. All of which is a red rag to MPs like Vicky, who got elected because she wanted to eradicate intergenerational poverty – not appear on I’m a Celebrity.
And then there’s the way Parliament can leave MPs with a bad conscience, detached from their own beliefs. Part of an MP’s job is to represent their political party. That means a Conservative MP who disagrees with the Government’s decision to continue selling weapons to Israel speaks out at the risk of being expelled from the Conservative party. Equally, a Labour MP who defends trans people’s right to be allowed to self-identify their gender (without a medical diagnosis), pits themselves against Keir Starmer’s current position, likely ruining their chances of being made a minister.
Continually saying what you don’t believe leads to the kind of self-loathing that former MPs like Rory Stewart have talked about. Parliamentarians must be polite to one another, or they risk damaging their reputation (the public values politeness), which means that in Vicky’s world, gushing praise of another MP is usually followed by a more honest view when they’re out of earshot: “I love your shoes” becomes “She’s incompetent” and “Excellent speech” really means “He’s weak.”
Staffers aren’t immune to the paranoia all this creates either. Having to speak within the Government or party line, rather than saying what you think, makes us wary of one another. For example, in private, most MPs and staffers that I know, across political parties, agree that immigration is a good thing.
We have an aging population and need people to work in our hospitals, supermarkets and farms. But in public, both parties preface anything about immigration with set lines. Labour MPs talk about “smashing the criminal networks” fuelling immigration and Conservative MPs, until recently, talked about “stopping the boats”. It's become normal to describe people fleeing violence and persecution as ‘illegal’ and questioning that can make you sound naive. Staffers in their twenties who’ve worked hard to be taken seriously by middle-aged MPs rarely risk it.
But I have hope for the future. While politics is pretty filthy, it also attracts some of the brightest lights – many of them women. Whether it’s Caroline Lucas of the Green party speaking out on climate change, Liz Saville Roberts from Plaid Cymru working hard to strengthen protections for rape victims, Alicia Kearns of the Conservatives holding her Government to account for their foreign policy decisions, Layla Moran of the Liberal Democrats speaking up for human rights, or Labour’s Zarah Sultana forcing the Government to listen to the concerns of younger voters, it’s genuinely inspiring to have role models to look to.
Yes, Westminster is still overwhelmingly populated by red-faced men one leer away from a heart attack and investigations into sexual misconduct against staffers take years. Yes, a large number of politicians are out of touch. And yes, women MPs from ethnic minority backgrounds looking to bring about meaningful change still have to fight harder than anyone else.
But for this, and so much more that's rotten to change, we need the demographic of voters to shift. 18–34-year-olds are amazing at turning up to protests and @ing their MP but they are rubbish at turning out to vote. Meanwhile, older, socially conservative people turn out in huge numbers. That’s why, as a group, younger people are ignored when governments pick their policies. If you want to change that, there’s only one way to do it – on 4 July. Just don’t forget your ID.
*Not a real name or constituency
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