The dirty dossier, the baby-faced assassin and a promotion that few saw coming
A LEAKED “dirty dossier” of supposed sex secrets of Conservative MPS led yesterday to a huge promotion for the very man who was meant to keep party skeletons firmly in the closet.
As Chief Whip, Gavin Williamson was Theresa May’s eyes and ears: a repository of party gossip and allegations to be used to keep MPS loyal.
He is one of Mrs May’s most trusted aides, having rallied support for her leadership campaign last year. So when Mr Williamson expressed doubts to the Prime Minister about Sir Michael Fallon, the Defence Secretary, his words carried plenty of weight.
What no one outside Downing Street expected to happen next was that Mr Williamson, having played a part in Sir Michael’s downfall, would be the man to take his job.
His promotion to Defence Secretary caught his Conservative colleagues by surprise. Having never held a ministerial role before, and with no experience of running a department, he was catapulted straight into a Cabinet role that may yet prove to be a staging post for prime minister.
Surprise was not the only emotion: blind fury was another. Supporters of those seen as contenders for the prize role, as well as those who had confessed secrets to him, accused him of breaching “the most fundamental convention of being Chief Whip” – using his position to further his interests. A fellow minister described him as “a self-serving ----”.
Mr Williamson, 41, is a fiercely ambitious politician who, friends say, would one day like to be prime minister, and undoubtedly has the cunning to outsmart less gifted opponents.
The son of Labour-voting parents, he worked in the pottery industry and architectural design. He was elected to Parliament in 2010 and enjoyed a stratospheric rise. After spells as parliamentary private secretary in the Northern Ireland Office and the Department for Transport, his big break came when he was appointed PPS to David Cameron, the prime minister, in 2013. He served him until he resigned in 2016.
He aligned himself with Theresa May after vowing to block Boris Johnson’s leadership bid, and worked as her parliamentary campaign manager, for which he was rewarded with the job of Chief Whip when Mrs May became Prime Minister.
One of his first actions upon moving into his new office was to put his pet tarantula, Cronus, in a tank upon his desk. His efficiency as whip soon earned him the nickname of “the babyfaced assassin”.
When Mrs May lost her majority at the snap election in June, it was to Mr Williamson she turned to negotiate a deal with Northern Ireland’s Democratic Unionist Party.
Such was the febrile atmosphere inside Parliament yesterday that there was speculation among some MPS, all entirely groundless, that Mr Williamson himself might have compiled or leaked the “dirty dossier”.
Party insiders believe it is more likely that a young Tory leaked it after developing a grudge. The undeniable truth, however, is that Mr Williamson has been the biggest beneficiary.
The list of names was leaked to the Guido Fawkes website on Sunday night. By Tuesday, Sir Michael Fallon was the subject of a tabloid story in which he admitted touching the knee of Julia Hartley-brewer, the journalist, at a dinner 15 years ago. Sir Michael initially came out fighting, insisting, correctly, that Ms Hartley-brewer did not regard the incident as significant and had accepted his apology at the time. By Wednesday night, however, everything had changed.
Mr Williamson held a meeting with Sir Michael earlier this week to root out any other allegations that might be lurking in his past. The intent was to reassure the Prime Minister that her defence secretary could remain in post.
Sir Michael was asked whether he could guarantee nothing else would come out. He could not and was proved right: by Wednesday whips became aware of a second woman’s allegations. His fate was sealed.
At 7.30pm on Wednesday Sir Michael resigned, explaining his behaviour had “fallen below the standards” required of the Armed Forces personnel of whom he was in charge.
Sources close to Sir Michael have told The Daily Telegraph that he does not hold Mr Williamson responsible for what happened to him.
Downing Street let it be known that Mrs May would promote someone rather than carry out a reshuffle. Bookies took bets on the likes of Brandon Lewis, the Home Office minister, Ben Wallace, the security minister, and Tobias Ellwood, a junior defence minister. Penny Mordaunt, health minister and former Armed Forces minister, was strongly tipped to be the first female defence secretary. The name Gavin Williamson did not figure.
Even when Mr Williamson was seen entering Number 10 yesterday at 10am, speculation that he was about to get Sir Michael’s job was dismissed as fantasy.
When the official announcement came half an hour later, it was greeted with naked fury by some Tory MPS. One government minister said: “He has been a self-serving ----. He has used his position to advance his own interests. That is not what a Chief Whip should do. He has breached the most fundain
‘He used his position to advance his own interest. That is not what a Chief Whip should do’
mental convention. He has left the whip’s office in a weakened position so he can escape blame. This will completely demoralise and anger the party – you should hear them in the tea room.”
Many female MPS were disappointed that Mrs May had not taken the opportunity to promote Ms Mordaunt. One put it more bluntly. Asked if the appointment had gone down badly, she said: “You bet your ----ing life.”
Mr Williamson is not, however, without his supporters. Nick Timothy, Mrs May’s former joint chief of staff, said the Prime Minister “rates him” and the idea that he had effectively appointed himself was “absurd”.
Friends say he knew nothing about his new brief until he was called in to see Mrs May. They claim she has rewarded his loyalty and ability to keep the party together as chief whip: despite a slew of tricky legislative hurdles, Mr Williamson never lost a government vote.
Whatever the truth, Mr Williamson’s perceived manoeuvrings drew inevitable comparisons to fiction’s most celebrated chief whip, Francis Urquhart. In the UK’S 1990 TV series House of Cards, Urquhart schemes to bring about the downfall of rivals and then seizes the office of prime minister.
Will Mr Williamson emulate his fictional equivalent? As Urquhart himself would undoubtedly say: “You might very well think that; I couldn’t possibly comment.”
‘This will completely demoralise and anger the party – you should hear them in the tea room’