Lobbying an MP

It's really very simple.

You make your way down to Parliament and ask a policeman where to go. He'll (because they happened to be men) will tell you to ask a uniformed personnel and they are quite easy to spot.

She or he will then tell you to go and ask the policeman just over there.

He will ask you where you are from and you might answer: "I'm not here to see my MP, I'm here to see the Minister for Housing because Cameron's office advised I do that."

He lets you pass and you walk down a little walkway until you get to security. Here you will have your picture taken and it's really bloody depressing because your cheeks will seem to hang down to the floor as you look into the mirror thing and think "do I really look like that???"

Then it's much like being in an airport as you put your bag in one of those trays (I've forgotten all vocabulary this morning) and pass through a metal detector (though you don't have to take off your shoes).

Unlike an airport I've ever been in one of the security guys is whistling a tune and you know it, you know it so well but you can't place it. So you ask, and he doesnt' know but someone else does, and of course it's "Oh Christmas Tree oh Christmas Tree how lovely are your branches" but I'm sure I associated it with something else, I know not what, when I first heard it.

You then walk towards the commons building and when you get there, walk through it or ask a security personnel where you have to go. (Up the stairs and turn left). You can wonder why there are rows upon rows of gold backed chairs with red velvet seats. (It's for the Pope's address on Friday)

At the top of the stairs you go left through heavy doors into another chamber where there will be a queue of people sitting waiting infront of another set of doors. You can jump this queue. They are there to come watch the commons in action, you are there to lobby a minister.

Once inside the central lobby ("the heart of the commons" I heard someone say) you walk to the reception desk and tell one of the attendants, wearing bow tie and tails, what your purpose is.

They tell you to fill in a Green Card. Who you want to see, what your name and address is and two very short lines to state your purpose.

You are told you will have to wait between 10 minutes and one hour and in that time someone will come out to meet you. If it's not the minister himself (or herself), it will be someone from their office.

You'll take a seat on one of the green leather chairs and wait, looking at the pictures on the walls, the statues on plinths, the people walking in and out and through. You will wait and wait and wait. Or maybe not. Two people didn't wait long.

An hour and a half later you'll go back to the reception desk to ask how much longer you must wait and, well, they'll be quite surprised that some other man associated to the MP you want, didn't come down and they will phone the MP's constituency. The voice on the other end of the phone will tell you you can't lobby that MP because he isn't yours. You have to go to your own MP and ask him (or her) to make the request on your behalf.

So you lobby your own MP. The person in tails rings his office for you and you're told he's in "the chamber". Person in tails tells you he's unlikely to come out if he's "in the chamber" but that this person is renowned for never coming down to meet constituents anyway and most often scrunches up the Green Card (which is green paper in actuality).

He knows my name, he knows my name.

You fill in the Green Card for him anyway, then go back and sit on the green leather sofa, but only long enough to quietly rage. Rage rage rage. Then leave.

Oh Nico Teen oh Nico Teen, how lovely is your poison (you know the tune)

The rain sprays your face as you cycle home, gently as though it's what's needed on a hot summers day.

You text the person who called you earlier to wish you luck and write: "Your prayers didn't work." Then later fall asleep in front of the telly.