‘He was in a bathrobe... like a pound shop Harvey Weinstein’
IMET Chris Pincher in 2001 when I was a super-keen 26-year-old Tory activist trying to make my way in the party. I went to Conservative HQ in London to help with telephone canvassing on what was then their new high-tech ‘Geneva’ phone system.
was a political novice in those days. Chris is older than I am, clearly had connections, and had already stood as a parliamentary candidate in the 1997 General Election.
After the phone canvassing, a few of us went on to the nearby pub, the Marquis of Granby, for a drink and Chris came with us. After we had a couple of pints of beer he asked me in a Jeeves and Wooster voice: ‘What about din-dins Alex?’
It sounded odd, but I was hungry so I agreed.
We then stepped into a cab and went south across the river, the opposite direction to where most of the restaurants were.
When I asked why, he said ‘I just need to go back home quickly’. Arriving at his flat he poured me a whisky, as I recall.
I suddenly felt a bit woozy, and was sitting on the left side of the couch, leaning on the armrest, as he became unusually tactile. He then started untucking the back of my shirt, massaging my neck and whispered, ‘You’ll go far in the Conservative Party.’
I assumed he was suggesting that if I did what he wanted, he would help me get on the candidates’ list, too.
I jumped up, a little bemused, and said sardonically, ‘We’ve only just met, let’s stay friends’.
He then rushed into another room saying ‘let me just slip into something more comfortable’ and returned in a bathrobe like a pound shop Harvey Weinstein, with his chest and belly sticking out. It was as if I had been transported into a Carry On movie scene, with him reading lines from a rather sordid script. My initial thought was to laugh, not least because Chris is very small and – at the time, a little portly – and I’m close to 6ft 8in and have years of training as a rower behind me.
At that point, I decided to make my apologies and left promptly.
As I made my way back home, I had the feeling of awkwardness that one gets when one’s leg is being dry-humped by an overly keen chihuahua in front of elderly relatives.
Of course, it provided a great deal of mirth and merriment to my rowing colleagues and, perhaps, reinforced a certain stereotype of dodgy politicians.
However, my sister Christina and her female friends were irate.
His premeditated deceit went beyond misreading the signs
As much with me as anything else for treating it so lightly.
Their point was that it was maybe fine for me, an Olympic athlete, who could quite easily defend myself. But what if it had happened to someone younger, smaller and more vulnerable? They would have been terrified and quite possibly unable to extricate themselves.
They had a point, but, like many others, I just didn’t feel like making a fuss.
In addition, at the time Chris wasn’t an MP. But he is not just an MP now, he is a Government whip
responsible not just for acting properly but for maintaining discipline in the Parliamentary Party. He now carries with him the weight of office and the power of patronage that goes with it.
That may lead someone else, faced with a similar predicament to the one I faced, to go along with it. Particularly if they hope to pursue a career in politics, as I did.
I don’t believe that anyone should be publicly ridiculed for making a clumsy pass at someone else, even if it is ill-judged. But I gave him no reason to misread any signs.
I am a straight man. And the deceit employed to get me to his flat went beyond misreading the signs. I would say it was clearly premeditated.
While I in no way consider myself any kind of victim here, as a father of four young children, I am concerned that it could happen to someone else less able to defend themselves.
My sister Christina said that Chris’s conduct was outrageous – and with hindsight, she is probably right.