The Fabian Society went to a lot of trouble and laid on a seminar for Labour MPs on taxation. This was based on a report from the society's grandly titled Commission on Taxation and Citizenship, chaired by Lord Plant, and was held in Portcullis House, 50 yards from the Palace of Westminster. A distinguished panel, including Plant, assembled to dispense wisdom. Tax being a high-profile topic in the forthcoming election, you might have thought it would be standing-room only. In addition, it was held on a Wednesday, when attendance at the House is highest because of PM's Questions. In the event, only one MP turned up - Martin Linton, the very interesting member for Battersea. Yet six other Labour MPs list themselves in the BBC/Vacher's Guide as being interested in tax questions. Not very, obviously.

Perhaps the venue was the problem. Portcullis House cost £238m to build, yet houses only 200 MPs. It is a disaster. Food smells from the atrium cafes drift up through the air-conditioning. When the chef burns the fish, everybody on the fifth floor knows about it. The post office in the basement floods. The rats (real ones, not politicians) have moved in and, worst of all, MPs cannot get a signal on their mobile phones. It has been helpfully suggested that they hold them out of the window. Alas, the windows do not open.

The latest Tory plot, I hear, is for William Hague to resign after losing the general election and stand against all-comers. That way, he could claim to be in control of events, rather than at the mercy of the Portillistas. Perhaps he is too young to remember that Edward Heath followed the same course when he lost in 1974.

Michael Portillo took his staff to the Gay Hussar, the noted old left watering-hole in Soho, for their Christmas lunch. They ate in what one diner calls "the Tom Driberg suite", though I doubt that the shadow chancellor shares the long-dead queen's taste in drink. Staff at the restaurant, which is recovering its former glory, say Portillo is a changed man, much more polite and kind to his employees. There was some ribaldry as the party left. Michael Foot pretended not to notice, but Ian Aitken, the Guardian bad boy, growled: "What an outing!"

The parliamentary lobby of journalists has a unique home at Westminster, a spartanly furnished room under the rafters, reached through long corridors and winding staircases. The briefing with the Prime Minister's secretary has been held there at 4pm since time immemorial. But the Commons authorities have never really liked the fourth estate being on the premises, and would love to get rid of us.

The Serjeant-at-Arms decided to evict the lobby from its eyrie and dump us in a windowless room in the basement. But the Speaker, Michael Martin, has intervened to halt the eviction order. Moreover, Metal Micky brought all the journalists in for drinks just to show how media-friendly he intends to be. That cannot have anything to do with rumours that he will be challenged after the election, can it?

A fresh look at the error-strewn Conservative Party diary for 2001 finds an entry for Sir Alex Douglas Home. Sir Alec must be revolving in his grave.

Alastair Campbell has asked for a signed copy of the infamous photograph of Adam Boulton, the political editor of Sky News, asleep on the floor of the Nice summit conference centre at some ungodly hour in the morning. Ali also wants to know the identity and relationship of a couple snuggled together on the carpet behind Boulton, cut out of most of the pictures. Surely he cannot believe that anyone connected with the government could have been so indiscreet?

Compliments of the season to all readers, including Mandy, who has sent out a tasteful Christmas card of himself with Bobby and Jack. Wags in Belfast have already captioned the undisgraced UIster Secretary: "A dick with two dogs."

Paul Routledge is chief political commentator for the Mirror

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