Being a political animal I could not let this week pass with out comment on the major happenings in the UK as after all this is supposed to be the mother of parliaments," said one MP towards the end of last week. "Instead, those looking in think it's the mother of all sewers. Normal business? There won't be any till the plague clouds lift."
Three weeks from the European elections and possibly a year until the next UK general election, Westminster is facing its most serious crisis of identity in living memory. MPs will return to the Commons tomorrow with a mist of pessimism surrounding everything they do. Those with options are said to be seriously reviewing standing again. Those without options have, in the worst cases, already taken steps towards securing a decent lawyer in the event of fraud and tax evasion charges being brought against them. And for one MP "not yet" (his words) caught up in the scandal, "there's the rest of us who simply couldn't have imagined a week as destructive as the last seven days, and who really can't see what lies beyond the next round of damaging headlines".
When a parliament is seemingly devoid of trust and ideals, there should be accelerating debates about reform, redesign, regrouping, re-establishing lost trust. In Westminster last week there was a feeling that, as the sewage had yet to reach its peak flow, there was little point to early talk of a clean-up. One MP's researcher said the Palace of Westminster fell into an "almost hallucinatory daily timetable" where the real day, the day that mattered, didn't begin in the morning but when "the first evening whiff of what The Daily Telegraph was printing" was being talked about. Another MP put it more graphically: "If this place had a mortuary, the bodies would be piling up. But the catastrophe that's still to come is when the post-mortems really do begin in earnest. The electorate put us all here, and the electorate will take away one hell of a lot of people: innocent, guilty, by-standers, conspirators, the criminals, those who got caught, those who didn't. It won't matter."
At the end of last week, seasoned observers were still trying to out-do each other in describing what the unravelling expenses and allowances scandal would do to the famous green leather benches of the Commons. "Ten ministers gone within days" was one prediction; "Manure parliament fears voter revolt" one imagined headline. "A trap door has opened and I don't know where I'll land," said another. Nail-biting tension is a cliché normally reserved for penalty shoot-outs or horror films. Both scenarios share the common factor that the outcome is uncertain, hence the anxiety. But since it was MPs who drew up and voted for the rules, filled in their expenses and allowances forms and were in regular contact with the authorities who paid out the claims, there are many who live and work in Westminster who didn't believe the claims of shock and surprise. One individual said: "The rules and the game were known to all and there has been evidence available for years on the misuse of parliamentary allowances. The Commons committee which is supposed to oversee any misuse has been shown evidence, hard evidence, before. Their decision has been to simply not uphold this evidence." The insider added: "Everyone is doing it, and report after report documented what was happening. Those who have reported abuse, and have chosen to take it to a high level, have been bullied to withdraw their accusations. "Abusing allowances simply became a way of life in parliament. Yes, a few victims were fed to the dogs. Over the last 10 years this has meant the government allowing investigations of their own backbenchers or the opposition. But if ever anything got too close to anyone in the Cabinet, complaints were bullied into withdrawal, with witnesses bought off with promised honours or being promoted into a ministerial position to keep the matter away from difficult territory. "The show of surprise and the excuses of not knowing the rules is simply not credible. Everyone was at it. It was a way of life." However, this senior source said that what had troubled even those who had carried out previous allowances and expenses investigations was the scale of the abuse that was detailed by the Telegraph on its front pages last week.
The revelations began with Gordon Brown seemingly exposed by claiming for the wages of a cleaner he shared with his brother. However, The Telegraph later effectively withdrew their own headline, saying the PM had done nothing wrong. But when the full content of the allowances scandal began to unfold, it left MPs who normally march proudly through the corridors of the Commons, feeling like proud members of an exclusive club, looking like withered, heads-down individuals. No layer of government, no party, young MPs and older former ministers alike: every tier looked to be contributing their own sleaze chapter, adding to what one former ministerial aide referred to as "the build-up of shit in the gutter".
Jack Straw claimed council tax and mortgage bills and forgot about the discount he'd been given. Lord Mandelson put in a house improvement bill after he announced he was standing down. Hazel Blears claimed for three properties in a year, spent £5000 on furniture in three months and avoided paying £13,000 in capital gains tax on her property deals. Alistair Darling and Geoff Hoon benefited from "flipping" their first and second home designations. Margaret Beckett claimed £600 for hanging baskets and pot plants, and claimed £72,000 in second-home allowances despite having no mortgage or rent to pay on her constituency home.
The Speaker, Michael Martin, claimed £1400 in chauffeur-driven cars. Phil Woolas put in claims for sanitary towels and nappies. Margaret Moran claimed for dry-rot treatment for a second home. Barbara Follett claimed £25,000 for private security. Phil Hope spent £37,000 fitting out his London flat. That was just two days, focusing on government ministers and Labour MPs.
When attention turned to the Conservatives, we heard of Michael Ancram spending £100 on swimming- pool boiler repairs; £115 for David Willett's 25 light bulbs; £2000 to clear Douglas Hogg's moat; £620 for Sir Michael Spencer's chandelier and the cost of mowing round his "helipad". Then there was the £87,000 Anthony Steen was paid over four years for his country home, which included help for a forestry expert to keep an eye on his trees; the "misjudgment" of Michael Gove, who claimed £7000 on furnishings; and £2000 claimed by Oliver Letwin for the repair of a leaking pipe under his tennis court.
Each day last week brought new embarrassment, with Gordon Brown and David Cameron each anxious to outdo the other when it came to contritional censure for the high-profile "mistakes" in their respective camps. One Labour MP - who was not attacked over his expenses - said: "Gordon probably thought he needed more and more evidence before making a decision. In fact, his decision to have someone look back on all Labour's MPs' records wasn't a decision at all - it was him trying to put off making a decision and hoping more evidence would be seen as a good thing." Cameron didn't need to wait for more evidence. He saw Alan Duncan claiming £3000 for gardening, like Hogg's moat and Sir Michael's chandelier and helipad, as heralding the return of the arrogant Tory toff who couldn't care less what his constituents thought. He saw his Torytopia vanish with Andrew MacKay and Julie Kirkbride's £280,000 double-counting and he needed to act quickly. MacKay was forced to resign as Cameron's aide, and other resignations were promised as Cameron insisted all Conservative MPs' allowances were put on a new website designed to show a new era of transparency had arrived. Cameron also ordered his MPs to get out their chequebooks, and nearly £28,000 has been repaid. Having failed to sack the Home Secretary, Jacqui Smith, over her manipulation of the allowances system, Brown needed a victim quickly. Elliot Morley and his housing expenses, which included £16,000 for a mortgage that was already paid, was ready-made. Morley was suspended from the Parliamentary Labour Party. Others, party sources say, will also see the Labour whip removed. The £13,000 "phantom" mortgage claimed by the backbencher David Chaytor may now bring a criminal investigation that, once widened, won't be easy to control if it gains momentum. Labour MPs caught in the headlights have so far paid back £107,000. But tomorrow won't be an opportunity to put their house in order. Instead it may be chapter two - or, as one elderly MP, said: "Last week we felt the walls fall down; now it's the turn of the ceiling to come down on us." The main parties' fortunes have already collapsed in the polls; UKIP and the BNP are there to pick up the malcontents.
In Westminster Hall on Thursday afternoon, a group of MPs were standing together near the spot where Charles I was sentenced to death. One asked: "How did we let it get to this?" He got this answer: "The answer's already in the question. We did.