House in order

The shaming of Lord Sewel was a classic tabloid exposé. The fact that a peer of the realm (albeit one appointed by Tony Blair) was caught on camera apparently ingesting Class A drugs in the company of prostitutes is a good enough story in itself. The fact that the peer in question was chairman of the Lords privileges and conduct committee while he was doing so makes it very near to red-top nirvana. Since the publication of the story — and scores of lavish accompanying photographs — the peer’s Pimlico flat has been raided by police (who battered down a door to gain access), and Lord Sewel has resigned from the House of Lords, expressing the correct and noble sentiment that he can ‘best serve the House by leaving it’.

Ordinarily that would have been that. But nothing involving the issue of the House of Lords is ever ordinary. The composition, character and powers of the Upper House remain a low-level but significant sore in British politics. On the day of Lord Sewel’s resignation, the new Liberal Democrat leader, Tim Farron, attempted to win political points from the affair and to stoke any popular resentment against the House by declaring that the Lord Sewel story was not just about ‘one bad apple’. On the contrary, according to Mr Farron, the Sewel affair revealed a system which was ‘rotten to the core’. The argument would be easier to take if senior Liberal Democrats were not currently engaged in an effort to squeeze as many recently jobless representatives of their own party as possible through the House of Lords’s doors. Nevertheless, even if this were not the case, Mr Farron would still be wrong.