It felt like I’d walked into the most exclusive private club in the world, and I was soon seduced by its charms.
An aroma of power and privilege swirled around every step.
Unfortunately, it’s now replaced by the stench of double standards. But, things were different then.
I crossed the threshold with a feeling of awe; statues and busts of eminent public figures lined the walls. Flunkeys fussed about here and there. Some staff were clad in fancy costumes which reminded me of D’Oyly Carte productions of Gilbert and Sullivan comic operas.
Later, my host and I lunched in luxury; waiters in smart waistcoats and bow ties hovered. The food was exquisite, and cheap for London because – you’ll laugh at this – it was subsidised by the public.
Some corridors were cordoned off from common folk like me. I couldn’t see what lay at the end of these mysterious passages, but I had a good idea, as I heard faint laughs and chatter along with the chink of glasses and cutlery.
You could become addicted to this type of thing, I thought.
But where was this special place?
The Athenaeum Club in Pall Mall, perhaps, or the Cavalry and Guards in Mayfair, maybe? No, it was the House of Commons, of course.
Delusions of grandeur and invincibility
My visit keeps coming to mind whenever partygate rears its ugly head. And the gory details of Sue Gray’s damning report, as she put 10 Downing Street’s entrails on public display.
When the media talks about the “Westminster bubble”, do they now mean Bollinger bubbles, by any chance?
My peek inside was a few years ago, but I can’t imagine that much has changed – especially the sense of overbearing self-entitlement among some who inhabit this world.
I have a suspicion Holyrood has a similar effect on some. The Scottish Parliament doesn’t have the same tarnished image, but it’s been dented by a few close scrapes.
I’ve been convinced for years that the privileged life at Westminster gives some MPs and lackeys delusions of grandeur, or even invincibility. This applies not only to ministers, but also civil servants and spin doctors who work for them – “touched” by power in more ways than one.
The ‘us and them’ divide
Look no further than the Sue Gray report for proof of this. It’s about two worlds colliding.
We were in one world, studiously trying stay on the right side of bewildering, ever-changing Covid rules, handed down with due solemnity from Number 10. And then there was the other, wacky Whitehall world, where they were sniggering behind our backs as champagne corks popped.
Ordinary people like us won’t forget this particular domestic embarrassment because we made Covid sacrifices when Downing Street failed to do likewise
It’s an “us and them” divide between Westminster and the public, which grew stronger during the pandemic and cost of living crisis. With millionaire politicians in smart suits preaching at us to count our pennies, it is little wonder.
The Houses of Parliament are like a gilded cage, full of remote, out-of-touch people.
Now, someone has to pay, heads must roll and Downing Street needs fumigating.
Of course, partygate pales into insignificance compared to Ukraine and fears of a Third World War.
Mr Johnson is lionised by President Zelensky, who would not give a hoot about partygate. But, the PM’s own hero – Churchill – was toppled just months after winning the last war. It was feared he couldn’t handle domestic issues; an omen from history about to repeat itself?
Ordinary people like us won’t forget this particular domestic embarrassment because we made Covid sacrifices when Downing Street failed to do likewise.
Like me, you probably stared wistfully over a garden wall from the street to watch grandsons playing because we could not hug them. Later on, we drew chalk lines on the ground outside – to remind us to keep our distance.
Nearly all of us were heeding the message.
We all have stories of sacrifice
Some of the drunken “gatherings” laid bare by Ms Gray were in full swing just before Christmas 2020. It was exactly the same period we were forced to abandon our own special family gathering out of a sense of public duty.
I wondered at the time if anyone would notice if we just did it anyway. But, we decided to do the responsible thing, despite the tears
Reluctantly, we cancelled plans to bring the boys’ widowed great-grandmother to Aberdeen for Christmas.
She lived a long way away, and I had charted a complicated road trip across a number of local authority boundaries. I almost had to reach for my eldest grandson’s compass and protractor.
Unfortunately, Covid rules diverged between these authorities and criss-crossing was banned here and there.
I wondered at the time if anyone would notice if we just did it anyway. But, we decided to do the responsible thing, despite the tears.
You probably have stories like mine, and worse.
Some powerful forces have been gunning for Boris since Brexit; they seized on partygate as a new opportunity, but other events have outpaced it. That is not to say, however, that a day of reckoning won’t arrive at some point.
David Knight is the long-serving former deputy editor of The Press and Journal
Conversation