Parliament operates too much like a club, with its own codes of behaviour and weird customs designed to put off outsiders, say Westminster’s critics. There is something in that. The place at its worst, in its flummery, is a 19th century reimagining of a bogus version of the 17th and 18th centuries.
But one benefit of the club-like atmosphere of the voting lobbies, committee structure and tearooms, is that friendships form among MPs, both within parties and across party boundaries, encouraging civility and understanding. The exceptions are some of the Corbynistas who proclaim they could never be friends with a Tory. Imagine being so sour as to think that politics totally trumps human warmth and comradeship with your fellow citizens.
