Getting the House in order

"£4billion for cash, mate?"

I had a plasterer and electrician round this week.

The work they did cost me getting on for £570. Add another seven zeroes to that, and you’ll reach 5.7billion quid – the possible cost of repairing the crumbling Houses of Parliament.

The nursery rhyme got it wrong – it’s not London Bridge that’s falling down, it’s London’s parliamentary home. After 150 years of literally plastering over the cracks and carrying out running repairs, the Grade 1 listed building is at risk of sinking, falling to bits, catching fire or an exciting combination of all three at the same time, thanks to outdated cabling, a sewage system straight out of an engineering museum, and an extra large helping of chronic indecision.

Despite a report five years ago warning that damage may be major and irreversible, MPs are still having a good old think about it, and unlikely to come up with an answer for another year and a half.

Politicians putting off a decision that might prove unpopular with the people who elect them? There’s a shock. Unfortunately, by continually putting their fingers in their ears and humming a pretty tune whenever it’s been mentioned, the problem has continued to get worse and, importantly, even more costly.

It seems there are a few options available to our elected parliamentarians whilst the work goes on. They could carry on shouting “humbug!” at each other and acting like spoilt children whilst it is carried out around them (presumably by responsible adults on lower wages) – this option would take ages (a bit like some MPs when asked to get to the point), and be very costly.

They could move out in bits (Commons first, then Lords), which would save a few quid, or hand the keys over to the men and women in hard-hats and hi-vis jackets, and decamp en masse to another location.

This final option would be quickest and cheapest... although the word “cheap” doesn’t really apply when you’re talking about a bill with that many zeros. And where are they all going to go?

I’ve got a spare desk in my office – they can use that, as long as they keep the noise down and remember I don’t take sugar in my coffee. Imagine having that lot in the office next door, though? I bet Boris nicks all the Chocolate HobNobs, and you’d probably get fed up with Jeremy insisting on organic, fair trade, skimmed milk.

Maybe they can do all their shouting at each other and waving bits of paper via Skype, or have a few conference calls? Although it’s possible that Jacob will have denounced that sort of thing as evil wizardry.

Unless the simultaneous flaming/sinking/collapsing thing happens first (in which case a sizeable insurance claim is in order), this work will happen eventually, and expensively. I know a good plasterer, if it helps.

Thank the Lords we’re not paying for it eh? Oh, hang on... yeah, we will be.

Is a cheque OK? I can wave it in the air whilst shouting “bah!” angrily.

This post first appeared as my "Thank grumpy it's Friday" column, in The Mail, on the 27th of October, 2017. Both the version on their website and the print edition were re-titled as "Still getting their House in order".

I think I've reached a decision about whether to carry on the column. Mulling over it, as it feels like a significant thing to decide to pack it in. It has reached stage where I tend to be scrabbling around for an idea with the deadline looming, when once it was written and done days before, with another idea already mostly in place for the next one. Hmm...

(CD A-Z: Sparks - "Extended - the 12inch Mixes".)

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