Commons Confidential

Mandy: Labour’s Simon Cowell.

Thirty thirsty MPs have made the most significant decision of John Bercow's reign: selecting the ten-year-old malt for the House of Commons shop (sipping from a shortlist of three, in order to comply with EU tendering rules). I hear that the drink-off in the state room was preceded by a vigorous debate as to whether the decision should be made using first-past-the-post or the Alternative Vote. Tradition triumphed, in a blow to electoral reform; but the middle bottle won, AV-style, in the blind taste test. Thick-headed tipplers later wondered if it was worth the hangover. Speaker Bercow rarely indulges; his whisky is a Macallan, just like that of his teetotal predecessor, Michael Martin.

Peter Mandelson isn't just re-forming the band, with Tony Blair and John Prescott as Gordon Brown's backing singers. The Labour Party's Simon Cowell is recruiting old roadies, too. Spied at a campaign session, escorted by Douglas Alexander, was Benjamin Wegg-Prosser, Mandy's one-time little helper. Benji fled Britain for Russia when Blair quit No 10, but has agreed to return for a final tour. Other blasts from the past are expected. Weepy Alastair Campbell isn't alone in coming out of retirement for one last gig.

A Jack Russell named Mars may be another reason why the hokey-cokey "Cameron cutie" Joanne Cash is in the doghouse with the Westminster North Tories. The in-out-in candidate Cash looks after Michael Gove's pooch when the leader's pet (and shadow schools minister) is on his Surrey Heath patch. Notting Hell's more rabid Cons suspect that she prefers walking Mars to spending time with them. My snout muttered that they may not be barking up the wrong tree.

Yomping over Westminster Bridge, your correspondent was asked by a spotty youth in a fluorescent jacket to cross the road, as a "commercial" was being filmed. Prius-like, I sped on and bumped into the star -- a sheepish Nick Clegg. I can see him sold as political Flora: neither Cameron butter nor Brown margarine.

Mandy fancies himself as king-maker when Brown is dethroned. That may explain an intemperate text to Ed Miliband, advising the jolly green minister against fraternising with Labour lefties.

John Bercow is to introduce a Mr Speaker bottled ale to the gift shop. Old Peculier, perhaps?

Kevin Maguire is associate editor (politics) of the Daily Mirror

This article appears in this week's New Statesman.

Kevin Maguire is Associate Editor (Politics) on the Daily Mirror and author of our Commons Confidential column on the high politics and low life in Westminster. An award-winning journalist, he is in frequent demand on television and radio and co-authored a book on great parliamentary scandals. He was formerly Chief Reporter on the Guardian and Labour Correspondent on the Daily Telegraph.

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I am special and I am worthless: inside the mind of a narcissist

There's been a lot of discussion about narcissists this week. But what does the term actually mean?

Since the rise of Donald Trump, the term “narcissistic” has been cropping up with great regularity in certain sections of the media, including the pages of this journal. I wouldn’t want to comment about an individual I’ve never met, but I thought it would be interesting to look at the troubling psychological health problem of narcissistic personality disorder (NPD).

People with NPD (which is estimated to affect about 1 per cent of the population) have a characteristic set of personality traits. First, they have a deeply held sense of specialness and entitlement. Male NPD sufferers frequently present as highly egotistical, with an unshakeable sense of their superiority and importance; female sufferers commonly present as eternal victims on whom the world repeatedly inflicts terrible injustices. In both cases, the affected person believes he or she is deserving of privileged treatment, and expects it as a right from those around them.

Second, NPD sufferers have little or no capacity for empathy, and usually relate to other people as objects (as opposed to thinking, feeling beings) whose sole function is to meet the narcissist’s need for special treatment and admiration – known as “supply”. In order to recruit supply, NPD sufferers become highly skilled at manipulating people’s perceptions of them, acting out what is called a “false self” – the glittering high achiever, the indefatigable do-gooder, the pitiable victim.

The third characteristic is termed “splitting”, where the world is experienced in terms of two rigid categories – either Good or Bad – with no areas of grey. As long as others are meeting the narcissist’s need for supply, they are Good, and they find themselves idealised and showered with reciprocal positive affirmation – a process called “love-bombing”. However, if someone criticises or questions the narcissist’s false self, that person becomes Bad, and is subjected to implacable hostility.

It is not known for certain what triggers the disorder. There is likely to be a genetic component, but in many cases early life experiences are the primary cause. Narcissism is a natural phase of child development (as the parents of many teenagers will testify) and its persistence as adult NPD frequently reflects chronic trauma during childhood. Paradoxically for a condition that often manifests as apparent egotism, all NPD sufferers have virtually non-existent self-esteem. This may arise from ongoing emotional neglect on the part of parents or caregivers, or from sustained psychological or sexual abuse.

The common factor is a failure in the development of a healthy sense of self-worth. It is likely that narcissism becomes entrenched as a defence against the deep-seated shame associated with these experiences of being unworthy and valueless.

When surrounded by supply, the NPD sufferer can anaesthetise this horrible sense of shame with the waves of positive regard washing over them. Equally, when another person destabilises that supply (by criticising or questioning the narcissist’s false self) this is highly threatening, and the NPD sufferer will go to practically any lengths to prevent a destabiliser adversely influencing other people’s perceptions of the narcissist.

One of the many tragic aspects of NPD is the invariable lack of insight. A narcissist’s experience of the world is essentially: “I am special; some people love me for this, and are Good; some people hate me for it, and are Bad.” If people with NPD do present to health services, it is usually because of the negative impacts Bad people are having on their life, rather than because they are able to recognise that they have a psychological health problem.

Far more commonly, health professionals end up helping those who have had the misfortune to enter into a supply relationship with an NPD sufferer. Narcissism is one of the most frequent factors in intimate partner and child abuse, as well as workplace bullying. The narcissist depends on the positive affirmation of others to neutralise their own sense of unworthiness. They use others to shore themselves up, and lash out at those who threaten this precarious balance. And they leave a trail of damaged people in their wake. 

This article first appeared in the 16 February 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times