Former Tory cabinet secretary Caroline Spelman spoke at a women in parliament APPG report launch today. Photo: Getty
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IPSA has made the expenses system like the "19th century" for women MPs

A report launched by the women in parliament APPG today highlighted the thorny battleground of MPs' expenses as an obstacle for female politicians.

The 2009 reforms to the MPs’ expenses system, remarked Conservative MP and former Environment Secretary Caroline Spelman, are like going “back to the 19th century, where single men of private means” were favoured by the structure.

Spelman was speaking at the launch of a report by the APPG for Women in Parliament called Improving Parliament: Creating a Better and More Representative House. It is a report that gives seven key recommendations for improving the situation for both women in parliament and for women at the selection stage.

The recommendations, announced in the Speaker’s State Apartments in parliament today, include adding harsher “rules and sanctions” for unprofessional behaviour in the chamber, creating a women and equalities select committee, and improving the parliamentary calendar’s predictability to allow MPs to better plan their time between the House of Commons and their constituencies.

But what stood out from these recommendations were the so-called “unintended consequences for women” created by the Independent Parliamentary Standards Authority (IPSA), when it was brought in to respond the MPs’ expenses scandal in 2009.

Spelman noted that some of the changes to the expenses system brought in by IPSA, including the “restriction to a one-bed flat in London, which means a mother can’t live with her children for a whole week”, have caused unexpected difficulties for MPs, particularly women.

The recommendation in the report to combat this problem is a review of the current system and a gender audit of IPSA rules. The APPG’s survey of current and former parliamentarians, the results of which it used to illustrate the report, found “Reforming IPSA financial support for families” the third most popular suggestion for encouraging more people to become MPs.

I spoke to some of the MPs behind the report following the event and found that this is more of a communication problem than anything else. Navigating the current system is difficult, and although IPSA is now more flexible on an individual basis, when MPs request dispensation due to their personal circumstances, concerns remain, particularly for women and young fathers.

Before 2009, members were allowed accommodation in two locations for themselves and their family – this is no longer the case, meaning many parents have to live apart from their children for most of the week.

Mary Macleod, chair of the APPG, tells me she has been speaking to IPSA about better communication of its updated rules, but admits that progress is slow and that many women in Westminster have “no clue” about what they are and are not allowed to do. And Labour MP Sharon Hodgson, who has also worked on this report, points out to me that even if MPs do have the opportunity to be granted dispensation, they are often “reluctant to do so” for fear of coming high up in league tables of how expensive our MPs are, ie how much they claim on travel and accommodation.

When the expenses scandal endures as a reason why people are suspicious of MPs and the Westminster world, it makes IPSA a particularly thorny battleground for female politicians who are attempting to make their workplace more palatable to potential future candidates. 

Anoosh Chakelian is deputy web editor at the New Statesman.

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The dog at the end of the lead may be small, but in fact what I’m walking is a hound of love

There is a new, hairy face in the Hovel.

There is a new, hairy face in the Hovel. I seem to have become a temporary co-owner of an enthusiastic Chorkie. A Chorkie, in case you’re not quite up to speed with your canine crossbreeds, is a mixture of a chihuahua and a Yorkshire Terrier, and while my friend K— busies herself elsewhere I am looking after this hound.

This falls squarely into the category of Things I Never Thought I’d Do. I’m a cat person, taking my cue from their idleness, cruelty and beauty. Dogs, with their loyalty, their enthusiasm and their barking, are all a little too much for me, even after the first drink of the day. But the dog is here, and I am in loco parentis, and it is up to me to make sure that she is looked after and entertained, and that there is no repetition of the unfortunate accident that occurred outside my housemate’s room, and which needed several tissues and a little poo baggie to make good.

As it is, the dog thinks I am the bee’s knees. To give you an idea of how beeskneesian it finds me, it is licking my feet as I write. “All right,” I feel like saying to her, “you don’t have to go that far.”

But it’s quite nice to be worshipped like this, I have decided. She has also fallen in love with the Hovel, and literally writhes with delight at the stinky cushions on the sofa. Named after Trude Fleischmann, the lesbian erotic photographer of the Twenties, Thirties and Forties, she has decided, with admirable open-mindedness, that I am the Leader of the Pack. When I take the lead, K— gets a little vexed.

“She’s walking on a loose lead, with you,” K— says. “She never does that when I’m walking her.” I don’t even know what that means, until I have a think and work it out.

“She’s also walking to heel with you,” K— adds, and once again I have to join a couple of mental dots before the mists part. It would appear that when it comes to dogs, I have a natural competence and authority, qualities I had never, not even in my most deranged flights of self-love, considered myself to possess in any measurable quantity at all.

And golly, does having a dog change the relationship the British urban flâneur has with the rest of society. The British, especially those living south of Watford, and above all those in London, do not recognise other people’s existence unless they want to buy something off them or stop them standing on the left of the sodding escalator, you idiot. This all changes when you have a dog with you. You are now fair game for any dog-fancier to come up to you and ask the most personal questions about the dog’s history and genealogy. They don’t even have to have a dog of their own; but if you do, you are obliged by law to stop and exchange dog facts.

My knowledge of dog facts is scant, extending not much further beyond them having a leg at each corner and chasing squirrels, so I leave the talking to K—, who, being a friendly sort who could probably talk dog all day long if pressed, is quite happy to do that. I look meanwhile in a kind of blank wonder at whichever brand of dog we’ve just encountered, and marvel not only at the incredible diversity of dog that abounds in the world, but at a realisation that had hitherto escaped me: almost half of London seems to have one.

And here’s the really interesting thing. When I have the leash, the city looks at me another way. And, specifically, the young women of the city. Having reached the age when one ceases to be visible to any member of the opposite sex under 30, I find, all of a sudden, that I exist again. Women of improbable beauty look at Trude, who looks far more Yorkie than chihuahua, apart from when she does that thing with the ears, and then look at me, and smile unguardedly and unironically, signalling to me that they have decided I am a Good Thing and would, were their schedules not preventing them, like to chat and get to know me and the dog a bit better.

I wonder at first if I am imagining this. I mention it to K—.

“Oh yes,” she says, “it’s a thing. My friend P-J regularly borrows her when he wants to get laid. He reckons he’s had about 12 shags thanks to her in the last six months. The problems only arise when they come back again and notice the dog isn’t there.”

I do the maths. Twelve in six months! That’s one a fortnight. An idea begins to form in my mind. I suppose you don’t have to be a rocket scientist to work out what it is. But no. I couldn’t. Could I?

Nicholas Lezard is a literary critic for the Guardian and also writes for the Independent. He writes the Down and Out in London column for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 28 April 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The new fascism