Commons Diary: Jess Phillips
4 min read
With Westminster in a state of political deadlock, Jess Phillips finds time to engage on the literary stage and experiences emotional heroine overdose
It’s been a funny old week. They all are these days. We’re finally back in Parliament for a decent run of weeks. It seems that for months we have been on a jerky schedule of a couple of weeks in Westminster broken up with elections, recesses and conferences.
Now that we’ve returned we could easily not have: my democratic duty is not done as this week, like last week, there is only a single vote which – as it is an opposition day debate vote – will probably change nothing.
As the scaffolding finally engulfs Big Ben this week I wonder if and when the function of this Palace will ever resume.
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While Westminster cannot get its act together I, like other MPs, dig in to work at home in my constituency. The people at home have little care for our political deadlock. Their needs continue, and like every week queues formed in my office with people living in B&Bs or poor temporary accommodation, and constituent after constituent waited for hours to seek help preparing their cases for tribunals to have their disability benefits reinstated.
The electoral commission came back with their revised proposals for boundary changes and told me this week that some of these people will no longer be my responsibility as it sliced my constituency in half, somewhat laughably taking Yardley out of the Yardley constituency. It is amusing that the proposal for my new stomping ground has the outline of a hammerhead shark, but my connection, friendship and kinship to the people I represent now stops me from laughing. I’ll dry my eyes knowing that impotence in the big house means this massive redrawing exercise will most likely come to nothing. The people waiting in my office must be thrilled that their taxes paid for this.
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My weekend was odder still than my week. I decamped 40 miles from my home to the Cheltenham Literary Festival for the weekend.
My first duty was to interview my friend Brendan Cox about his book, More in Common, a celebration of his wife and our departed colleague Jo Cox. We sat in front of a hushed respectful audience and talked about lovely Jo. Both he and I were worried it might actually be too hard to get through, but in fact talking helps and it is life affirming to talk about her.
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On Saturday a different pace, where my family all joined me and caused chaos as per usual. Me and parliament’s very own retro gentleman, Jacob Rees-Mogg, were on stage together.
The media focused on Jacob’s correct admission that it would be ridiculous to call him a feminist. For me the defining moment of our ‘more in common’ themed chat was when my dad wrestled the mic to ask Jacob a question from deep within his left-wing heart. His question was a pertinent slight at those who claim Christian values and then cut services to the poor – however I couldn’t enjoy it as I reverted to a teenager, cringing like anyone would when their dad turns up at work.
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And so to Sunday. I’m not a religious person but as I strolled towards the Cheltenham racecourse there was an air of a faithful gathering. I was going to see and hopefully meet Hillary Rodham CLINTON.
She was an hour late which put paid to my plans to meet her but allowed for giddy anticipation. As I waited outside chatting with other members of the congregation I feel I made friends for life. As the lights went down and hush filled the hall I realised what this woman had meant to me as a woman in politics. I burst in to tears. If I’d not been in a crowd of bookish types I’d have done the sort of crying where you wail and snot bubbles come out of your nose. Love or loathe her politics (I just like them) she is a shameless feminist who dared to try to smash the global glass ceiling.
This week in Westminster, and my weekend lamenting the lows and losses of politics today, should make me feel as useless as Big Bens bongs – but it doesn’t: it makes me want to fight.
Jess Phillips is Labour MP for Birmingham Yardley
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