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Beyond a Fringe by Andrew Mitchell, review: wonderfully funny memoir of life before and after Plebgate

Andrew Mitchell - UK Parliament/Jessica Taylor
Andrew Mitchell - UK Parliament/Jessica Taylor

Andrew Mitchell’s memoir is a wonderfully funny book that gives an insight not just into a political party but a particular breed of Tory: elite, One Nation, born to rule, or at least to have a jolly good go at it.

The early chapters are the best. Born in Hampstead in 1956 – solidly upper-middle class, son of a former MP and minister – Mitchell was sent to one of those schools where people paid good money to have their children abused. On one occasion, the headmaster beat the whole school: two lashes each. The sadist later “bragged that the exercise had done no end of good for his golf handicap”.

Next came Rugby (“I lacked the social class or pretension to go to Eton or the cleverness required for Winchester”); then, the Army, stationed in Cyprus (“long periods of boredom punctuated by occasional moments of tension, which spilled over into violence normally caused by disputes over land or goats”). When he went up to Cambridge in 1975, only three colleges admitted women. As president of the Union, he organised a debate titled “A woman’s place is in the harem”, with special guests Robert Morley and Felicity Kendal – and triggered a feminist riot.

Mitchell travelled the world for Lazard bank, cultivating a love of Africa (he was in Upper Volta in time for a coup), and returned to England to contest Sunderland South for the Conservatives in the 1983 election. He got the nomination, he suspects, because one of the party workers was his matron at Rugby.

In 1987, he entered Parliament for Gedling, at the age of just 31. He was a whip under John Major; after losing his seat and re-entering the House in 2001, he rose to be international development secretary under David Cameron. He was chief whip for only a few days – then disaster struck.

If it sounds like an exercise in “failing upwards” – Labour’s favourite phrase to describe Tory toffs – then Mitchell is in on the joke. He specialises in the kind of “I have no idea how I wound up running things” humour that makes our class system charming and humane.

He has ambition but is not motored by it; what he wants is to help, particularly the developing world. Mitchell was a champion of foreign aid spending, and the middle section of the book is a heartfelt plea for the benefits of largesse, along with some fascinating insights into how close to the ground a minister really gets. In Ethiopia, travelling with the Christian journalist Tim Montgomerie, he spent the night in a hut, squeezed between “a mum and dad, five children and their grandmother, as well as six goats and two cows.” Their sleep was disturbed by a “large rat” that ran across their chests. This, he learnt, is one of the reasons why vaccination is so critical.

It’s in the latter part of the book, though, that things get juicy, as Mitchell covers power politics. In the 1990s, Boris Johnson – then a Eurosceptic journalist for this paper – wanted to run for Parliament and the party was divided over what to do. He had written some very rude articles about Europe, particularly its bananas, and the PM wanted him frozen out. It was Mitchell, in charge of recruitment, who held firm and helped Boris get a foot on the ladder – only to fall off it himself in 2012.

Mitchell after losing his 'plebgate' libel action - Eddie Mulholland
Mitchell after losing his 'plebgate' libel action - Eddie Mulholland

Shortly after being made chief whip he had an alleged altercation with a policeman that became known as “plebgate”, after a story about him calling a Downing Street officer a “pleb” made the front page of The Sun. In the aftermath, Mitchell quit his post, three policemen were sacked and a fourth arrested for making up an eyewitness report, and a libel case over who said what ran up costs of £3 million. (Mitchell lost, despite support in court from Bob Geldof.)

Mitchell’s description of his public disgrace is that of a waking nightmare. “Night-time was the worst: we would sleep for a couple of hours then lie awake, tossing and turning, chewing over the sheer horror of it all.” Once the dust settled, he really ought to have been rehabilitated by Boris Johnson and, according to Mitchell, the Prime Minister said it was a matter of “national indignation and scandal” that Mitchell wasn’t in his government. But the PM has yet to do anything about it.

“Nurse your wounds in private,” he advises other ex-ministers, “and resist the urge to become bitter.” If a journalist writes something mean about you, take them for lunch. One wishes more MPs would heed this advice.

Beyond a Fringe is published by Biteback at £20. To order your copy call 0844 871 1514 or visit the Telegraph Bookshop