On Tuesday the Commons tackled the transparency of lobbying, non-party campaigning and trade union administration bill: second reading. This is a very modern bill, in that the title requires 96 characters, leaving almost no space for whinging tweets.
So MPs had to rip it to shreds the old-fashioned way, by a mixture of rhetoric and sarcasm. And it does look like a frightful mess. It appears to be composed entirely of unintended consequences and little else. As Labour's Angela Eagle pointed out, it has been compared to a dog's breakfast. But this was unfair – to dogs' breakfasts. "A lot more work goes into pet nutrition than has ever gone into this bill," she said.
You had to feel sorry for Andrew Lansley, the leader of the house, who led the debate. He had been mercilessly chewed by a select committee on Tuesday morning ("a dog ate my bill," as he might have said) and in the afternoon had to face yet more jeering and mockery in the Commons. "This bill has created a firestorm in my constituency!" said Glenda Jackson. "They are appalled …" I heard another woman's voice shout: "What the hell?".
And it didn't help that the bill appeared out of nowhere, just two days before the recess began, and was back to be debated just two days after the recess ended (Labour MPs suspect this is because it is replacing the plain packaging of cigarettes bill, killed by the arrival of top tobacco lobbyist Lynton Crosby at No 10. "Tosh," said Mr Lansley. But Mr Crosby will not be affected).
It seems to have been cobbled up by the proverbial team of monkeys who, given typewriters and enough time, might randomly produce the works of Shakespeare. A number of them have clearly been seconded as parliamentary draftsmen.
For example, whether lobbyists have to register depends, for some reason, on whom they work for. Take Michael Frayn's creation Rollo Swavely, the well-known public relations consultant, who toiled for the Methylated Spirits Marketing Board in their attempt to stop children drinking meths. He came up with the discouraging slogan, "Meths – it's a man's drink!" Now if Rollo was working for himself, he would have to register. But if he was merely an employee of the Meths Marketing Board, or, come to that, News UK, or G4S, he wouldn't. Even though he was doing exactly the same job.
Confused? You would be even more if you had listened to Mr Lansley. He did seem rattled by the noise in front of him. His catchphrase, used to start each answer to the innumerable interventions was "Ah, um". At one point, pleading for a break, he said: "This is an important debate, in which colleagues will want to say things." Gosh, really?
He was even more disconcerted by the attacks that came from behind him. For example, Sir Tony Baldry managed to drag in Richard III. MPs for three constituencies want to have his bones buried under the soil they represent. Would they have to be registered as lobbyists?
Actually, the whole bill resembles the king's description of himself: "deformed, unfinished, sent before my time …". Mr Lansley was already promising changes. He may need a lot.
via www.theguardian.com/politics/2013/sep/04/commons-tackle-lobbying-bill-dogs-breakfast
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