Westminster is a strange place a recent briefing by the House of Commons library detailed some of the odd customs that surround it.
For example, until only a few years ago it was a rule that anyone wishing to make a point of order in the chamber had to be wearing a hat.
In our modern post-war hatless days that led to the ridiculous situation in which two collapsible top hats were kept to hand and passed round the chamber to whoever wanted to speak out.
It was decided this should be abandoned because it made parliament look daft. Decided by the men in tights and wigs apparently able to discriminate between the silly and the serious.
One of the eternal mysteries of Westminster politics is the whips office.
We hear often about whips and whipping operations David Cameron is likely to replace his Chief Whip within weeks and it’s an important decision. Former defence secretary and GP Liam Fox is tipped to take the role.
An illustration of where they rank in government is that the Chief Whip, like the Prime Minister and Chancellor, has a residence in Downing Street at Number 12 and the whips office is at Number 9, next door to the PM.
But rarely is it explained what they actually do.
Indeed, talk to one and even they struggle to explain it.
Part of it is to do with discipline. Political parties are not homogenous and the various egos and characters therein have to be cajoled with a combination of carrot and stick to toe the party line.
The carrot is invariably the hope of promotion to a ministerial job complete with a fatter salary. The stick is the darker side of the job and that’s where the rumours of meetings in dark corridors come into play, with threats to expose affairs and end careers.
Whips keep the business of government ticking along, issuing emails with a list of the week’s business and an indication of whether members are required to turn up or not.
A single-line whip simply informs MPs of when a vote is expected and what the party line is on the issue. A two-line whip means members should vote when a division is called. A three-line whip means the entire party is expected to show up and vote as instructed. Rebelling on a three-line whip is serious.
All parties have whips and there are Lords whips, too.
The more independent minded members of the upper chamber, invariably not reliant on the party for a job any longer, can be harder to control. The worst one Lords whip could come up with was to threaten one of his flock the group of Lords he’s assigned to liaise with and keep in line with a spell on the naughty step.
And there are different styles of whip. Some favour the hard-line approach Donald Dewar apparently administered a “skelpie” to Ian Davidson in the early days of Tony Blair’s leadership for missing a vote but heaven help anyone trying to skelp the plain-speaking backbencher 20 years later.
Others take a more pastoral approach. Labour’s current chief whip Rosie Winterton is low-key but generally effective in keeping the party together. It’s in the summer when MPs are out of her reach that trouble brews.
Then there’s Alistair Carmichael, the Lib Dem chief whip. He’s a heavyweight in every sense and his Scottish accent alone is probably enough to tremble the sandal-wearing wing of his party. But he has a softer side.
Not only has he put a box of toys in the Lib Dem whips office next to the voting lobbies so little children can be kept entertained while their MP parents attend late votes, he has even had to change a baby’s nappy on his desk.
Perhaps not what he was expecting when he was warned being a whip can be a very dirty business indeed!
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