New MPs will think Christmas has come early
Heseltine. Unfortunately, I was in the bath when the phone rang, so when I answered, I said rather boldly: ‘Michael, I’m going to have to call you back. I’m in the bath.’
In the coming days, scores of today’s Tory MPs will get the same sudden attention from the five candidates who’ve put themselves forward to replace David Cameron.
What’s particularly entertaining is that lots of ambitious Conservatives had already come out for the early Boris Johnson campaign. Now, they’ve got egg on their faces.
The justice minister Dominic Raab came out for Boris in an article in the Sun — 24 hours before Boris quit. Raab’s already thrown his support behind Gove instead.
Another junior minister, Nicholas Boles, had been first out of the traps at the weekend in declaring for Boris. But once Johnson had been knifed, Boles was also first to clamber on the Michael ‘I don’t want to be Prime Minister’ Gove bandwagon.
‘Typical careerist,’ snorted one backbench cynic about this change of horses. In fairness, Boles was chief of staff when Boris became Mayor of London, and has always been close to Gove. Now he is the chief conductor of the Gove machine, but even if Gove loses, Boles may still be rewarded with promotion.
There will be other MPs who are already acknowledged worker bees or even campaign bigwigs for their candidate — and if their man or woman wins may soon be in Cabinet at the Department of Whatever.
Others further down the parliamentary food chain will only select their candidate if he or she is their best hope of a junior post at the Ministry of Paperclips.
But for the poor bloody infantry — the passed over, the disaffected, and even the highly-principled genuine ‘don’t knows’ — the coming days will provide moments to savour for the rest of their parliamentary careers.
Lunches, summer receptions and champagne soirées in posh houses owned by millionaire MPs such as Adam Afriyie will oil the wheels as the plotters for each campaign team charm the mad, bad and sad.
When I was an MP, I had to wait 11 years until the 1990 leadership election before I was told I was a ‘much-valued colleague’ whose views and opinions one candidate or another had always respected and admired . . . blah blah.
But for many of today’s young MPs who only got elected 13 months ago, political Christmas has come early. They will suddenly find themselves flavour of the month, not only with the campaign teams, but with lobby journalists armed with expense accounts who are desperate for scraps of information. The MPs with the real power are those who keep everyone guessing. They will get the most attention.
One as-yet-undeclared Tory of my acquaintance recently went to be schmoozed by Boris at his Islington home with a posh curry.
He told me the evening was ‘fun and gregarious, with plenty of booze’. He also now has a dinner booked with one of the candidates who is still standing, Liam Fox — and now presumably a kitchen supper at the hands of Mrs Gove also awaits his palate.
The real nightmare for campaign number-crunchers are those backbenchers who simply refuse to declare their allegiance until it’s all over. ‘After much soul-searching I voted for you in the end,’ they will tell the winner.
But such smarming never works, because afterwards rival campaign teams get together to suss out who the lying toads are.
Those considering not telling who they are voting for should take their decision to the grave. The great joy is that the whips have no control over this circus. Treachery, back-stabbing, anarchy and mayhem are the watch-words. Bitterness will poison the well of former friendships for ever.
William Shakespeare could not write this play — he’d think the plot too extreme!
There is only ever one certainty in Tory leadership contests: the early favourite never wins — just look at Mr Johnson.
Political murders and ‘stop’ campaigns are carried out by best mates — not whips. Threats — the whips’ normal currency — do not work, because MPs know the party hierarchy may be about to change. Just as the public did not respond to threats in the referendum, you can bet Big Ben on threats having no place in this bear pit.
‘Stop’ campaigns can, however, go deliciously wrong. During the 2001 leadership election, Michael Portillo suffered this fate. In their attempt to prevent him still being a candidate when the vote was put before the party grass roots — who would have backed him against Ken Clarke — the parliamentary party ended up, by accident, with Iain Duncan Smith.
Who knows, this time around we might yet end up, accidentally, with the inexperienced pretty face with