Away from the noise of Big Ben and Parliament Square, tucked away on a quieter side of the walls that surround the Palace of Westminster, a doorkeeper in a thick red coat and black top hat stands at a gothic stone porch. A taxi pulls up and he steps forward to usher a pensioner laden with Selfridges bags into the warm lobby.
This may look like the door to a five-star hotel but in fact it is the members’ entrance for the House of Lords. Parliament’s upper chamber has ballooned in recent years to more than 800 peers, who range from the last of the blue-blooded aristocrats, to bishops and bestowers of generous political donations.
But what is the House of Lords actually for? How do peers spend their days? And what has all this got to do with ferrets and ping-pong?
Who is in the House of Lords?
Most peers hold the title of baron or baroness: the form is used by commoners raised to the nobility until death. Many will have been in politics or government, as senior MPs and council leaders, permanent secretaries and spooks, before their “elevation” to life peerages.
Others have a background in business: some were industry leaders, now serving as peers boards. Lawyers are here too, a stone’s throw from Westminster Hall where each year barristers are promoted to the rank of king’s counsel at a ceremony presided over by the lord chancellor.
There are also the scribblers: academics, journalists, dramatists. And in the mix are a few former royal courtiers, charity bosses and trade unionists.
There are 26 spaces for Church of England bishops, with reserved spots for the most senior, including the archbishops of Canterbury and York. The right reverend prelates sit nearest the throne, their bench identifiable as the only one with armrests, in recognition of the seniority of the archbishop of Canterbury. This seating arrangement dates back to a law passed during the reign of Henry VIII.
The final category, the hereditary peers, are holding on by the tips of their signet-ringed fingers. In the late 90s there were more than 750, mostly Conservative party members, before Tony Blair reduced their number to 92. Over the coming months Keir Starmer intends to finish the job. Once the House of Lords (hereditary peers) bill is approved, Labour’s guillotine will end the right of descendants of the likes of the Duke of Wellington and the Earl of Liverpool to sit in the Lords.
What happens in the House of Lords?
As most ministers are based in the Commons, statements from the government are typically given first to MPs, before being repeated verbatim to the peers by a minister in the House of Lords.
The main business of the Lords is to scrutinise legislation, a line-by-line analysis drawing upon the expertise of its members. This could be a government bill introduced in the Commons, where it has sailed through thanks to MPs keen to follow their whips’ instructions in the hope of advancing up the greasy pole. The Lords is a chance to fine tune and, where necessary, reshape. Detailed scrutiny generally occurs in the chamber, with any peer able to contribute, whereas the equivalent process in the Commons normally happens in committee rooms.
There are good reasons for these differing approaches. Most peers have reached the top of the greasy pole, and, more importantly, the Lords has a built-in political imbalance. The Conservatives have 279 peers to Labour’s 214, which means the party now in government cannot pass its legislation without the help of the 184 crossbench peers. Opening the debate to the whole chamber is seen as more likely to result in consensus – and higher-quality legislation.
Despite their lower numbers, Labour peers were able to hold up bills under the last government with the help of the crossbench. They did it with the Rwanda deportation bill by adding amendments to it. When this happens, the bill is sent back to the Commons, for MPs to consider the Lords’ amendments, before returning to the upper house again.
What’s this about ferrets and who is ‘bottom boy’?
The process of sending bills back and forth between the chambers is known as “parliamentary ping-pong”, and it involves – like so many of the workings of the Lords – a set of elaborate rituals. Dressed in black stockings, and wigs for the Lords, clerks carry bundles of messages tied in silk ribbons. The messages note why one house disagrees with the proposed amendments of the other, and the language in which the messages are written is … Norman French.
The official language of government when the English parliament was established in the 13th century, it is used for messages such as: “Ceste Bille est remise aux seigneurs avecque des Raisons.” In a concession to modernity, the reasons themselves are given in English. Messages from the Commons are composed by a clerk blessed with the job title of “bottom boy”.
The colour of the ribbon around each bundle signifies which house is sending it: red for the Lords, green for the Commons, to match the leather benches on which each house sits. The ribbon itself is known as a ferret, from the Italian fioretti, a type of silk historically used to make the ribbon.
The to and fro cannot last indefinitely, but it can continue for a surprisingly long time. With bills that were not in an election manifesto, the Parliament Acts of 1911 and 1949 mean the Lords can hold up a bill for a year before the Commons can force it through (subject to a few requirements). The longest ping-pong rallies on record involved each house considering a bill five times before reaching agreement. This has happened three times, including with the Rwanda bill. In one marathon session, on the prevention of terrorism bill in March 2005, both houses sat continuously for 30 hours.
Do peers get paid?
Peers who attend the proceedings of the Lords in Westminster, such as debates in the main chamber, meetings of committees, or votes in divisions, are entitled to a daily allowance of £361, tax-free. Taking part in debates or meetings is not required, and no minimum time is specified for how long a peer must attend the proceedings. Some peers entitled to attend remotely are still eligible for the daily allowance. Office holders, such as ministers and the lord speaker, cannot claim the daily allowance.
In addition, peers from outside London can claim £100 a night to cover hotel costs, and their travel expenses to and from Westminster.
That all sounds great. Where do I sign up?
One well-trodden route to becoming a peer is to become an MP first. No easy task, but the House of Lords Library has found that 20% of members were MPs. Another is to become a party donor; such financial support can attract the attention of political leaders keen to exercise their powers of patronage.
Most peers are chosen by the prime minister and the leaders of opposition parties. Since 2001, a smaller number have been chosen by the politically neutral House of Lords appointments commission. These peers are expected to sit on the crossbenches. Any British, Irish and Commonwealth citizen over 21 can put themselves forward.
The commission says it looks to recommend nominees who can make “an effective and significant contribution to the work of the House of Lords, not only in their areas of particular interest and special expertise, but the wide range of other issues coming before the house”. Nominees are vetted and interviewed, questioned on their willingness to commit the time necessary to the role; their background is also examined to find their level of achievement within their field.
One recently appointed non-political life peer, Dr Alexandra Freeman, put herself forward after hearing a call for more scientific experts in the Lords on Radio 4.
Before rushing to the nomination form, note that, if successful, peers are not able to vote in general elections.
Right, I’ve done all that and become a peer. Where can I get a drink?
Luckily, peers are spoilt for choice when it comes to refreshments. The peers’ dining room and the Barry room are open to guests; the home room and the bishops’ bar are member-only, and the river restaurant is for peers and assorted pass-holders.
The clientele can be demanding. According to one anonymous peer, who filed a three-page complaint to the house authorities, the bishops’ bar is “an important and well-loved facility” but it would be improved with the return of cheesy biscuits on tables – “without charge” – as well as “simple food”: “a limited range of sandwiches, fruit, ‘toasties’, (which existed until a few years ago), simple plates of smoked salmon etc”.
There have also been complaints about uninvited guests. While the chamber may have papers tied up in ferrets, in the restaurants peers are more likely to encounter mice … perhaps nibbling on the cheesy biscuits, without charge.
Those entering for a lunchtime drink as Big Ben strikes one are greeted with a cheery “good morning”. This is because, within the time-warped universe that is the home of the lords temporal and spiritual, it is morning until the house sits, even if that is at 2.30pm. The sitting day then continues until the house adjourns, even if it is the morning of the next day.
All sitting days start with prayers, led by the bishop on duty. Since the 17th century, the prayers have been nearly the same, amended solely for the name of the monarch. In 1982, during the Falklands war, one bishop said a prayer for peace, and was reprimanded by members for doing so. The lords and ladies not surrender their traditions without a fight.