How will Nadine Dorries fare with the voters in 2015?

Forty five per cent of Tory voters say they are less likely to vote for her, but here's why she's likely to hang on.

Nadine Dorries last night became the first contestant to be voted off of I’m A Celebrity ... Get Me Out of Here, but how will she fare with the public in 2015? A new survey by Lord Ashcroft, who is emerging as one of the country's most prolific pollsters, reveals much disquiet among her Bedfordshire constituents.

Fifty eight per cent, including 59 per cent of Conservative voters, disapproved of her decision to appear on the programme, compared to only 16 per cent who approved. Asked whether David Cameron was right to suspend her from the Conservative Party, 58 per cent, including 64 per cent of Tory voters, said he was. In addition, 44 per cent, including 45 per cent of Tory voters, said they were now less likely to vote for her. It doesn't follow, of course, that fewer will vote for her; only a small number of voters are likely to base their vote on Dorries's TV appearance, rather than, say, the economy. Indeed, a separate voting intention question found that support for the Tories had fallen by just two per cent since the general election to 51 per cent. Support for Labour, which finished third in the constituency in 2010, has risen by seven points to 22 per cent, while support for the Lib Dems, who finished second, has more than halved from 25 per cent to 12 per cent. Thus, with a Conservative lead of 29 per cent, Dorries is likely to be returned to parliament provided she can persuade the whips to let her back in the party.

Dorries's Bedfordshire constituents were asked to rank the following politicians on a scale of 0-10.

What is clear, however, is that her antics have significantly dented her popularity. Asked to say whether they have a positive or negative view of various politicians on a scale of 0-10 (see table), voters gave Dorries a score of just 2.82, compared to 3.48 for Nigel Farage, 3.95 for Ed Miliband, 4.02 for Nick Clegg, 6.13 for Boris Johnson, and, worst of all, 5.35 for that "arrogant posh boy" - David Cameron.

Conservative MP Nadine Dorries, who was voted out of ITV's I'm A Celebrity ... Get Me Out of Here last night.

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

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Wrists, knees, terrible rages – I felt overwhelmed when Barry came to see me

I teach my registrars to be aware how a consultation is making them feel: that can give valuable clues to the patient’s own emotional state.

To begin with, it seemed that Barry’s wrists were the problem. He told me about the pain he was experiencing, the pins and needles that came and went in his hands. I started to examine him. His palms were calloused, his fingers thick and stubby, veterans of the heavy work he’d undertaken throughout his 57 years. Even as I assessed this first problem, he mentioned his knees. I moved on to look at those. Then it was his back. I couldn’t get to grips with one thing before he veered to the next.

I teach my registrars to be aware how a consultation is making them feel: that can give valuable clues to the patient’s own emotional state. Barry was making me feel overwhelmed, the more so as I learned that he’d been experiencing all these problems for years.

“Why are you coming to see me about them now,” I asked, “rather than six months ago – or in six months’ time?”

“I need some time off, doc.”

There was something about the way he wouldn’t meet my gaze. And again, that feeling of being overwhelmed.

“What’s going on at work?” I asked him.

His tone hardened as he told me how he’d lost his temper a couple of days earlier. How one of the others had been winding him up, and something inside him had snapped, and he’d taken a swing at his workmate and landed a punch.

Barry had walked out and hadn’t been back. I tried to find out if he’d heard from his boss about the incident, if he knew what was likely to happen next.

He told me he didn’t care.

We talked some more. I learned that he’d been uncharacteristically short-tempered for months; his partner was fed up with being shouted at. Sleep had gone to pot, and Barry had taken to drinking heavily to knock himself out at night. He was smoking twice his usual amount. Men like Barry often don’t experience depression as classic low mood and tearfulness; they become filled with rage and turn in on themselves, repelling those closest to them in the process.

Depression is a complex condition, with roots that can frequently be traced right back to childhood experiences, but bouts are often precipitated by problems with relationships, work, money, or health. In Barry’s case, the main factor turned out to be his job. He’d been an HGV driver but at the start of the year his company had lost its operator’s licence. To keep the business afloat, his boss had diversified. Barry hated what he now had to do. He was now a “catcher”.

I didn’t know what that meant. Getting up at the crack of dawn, he told me, driving to some factory farm somewhere, entering huge sheds and spending hours catching chickens, thousands upon thousands of them, shoving them into crates, stashing the crates on a lorry, working under relentless pressure to get the sheds cleared and the birds off to the next stage of the food production chain.

“It’s a young man’s game,” he told me. “It’s crippling me, all that bending and catching.”

It wasn’t really his joints, though. Men like Barry can find it hard to talk about difficult emotion, but it was there in his eyes. I had a sudden understanding: Barry, capturing bird after panicking bird, stuffing them into the transport containers, the air full of alarmed clucking and dislodged feathers. Hour after hour of it. It was traumatising him, but he couldn’t admit anything so poncey.

“I just want to get back to driving.”

That would mean landing a new job, and he doubted he would be able to do so, not at his age. He couldn’t take just any old work, either: he had to earn a decent wage to keep up with a still sizeable mortgage.

We talked about how antidepressants might improve his symptoms, and made a plan to tackle the alcohol. I signed him off to give him some respite and a chance to look for new work – the one thing that was going to resolve his depression. But in the meantime, he felt as trapped as the chickens that he cornered, day after soul-destroying day.

Phil Whitaker’s novel “Sister Sebastian’s Library” will be published by Salt in September

This article first appeared in the 21 July 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The English Revolt