The secret diary of an MP: Out on the hustings – where students ask the best questions

After last week’s fraught discovery that a third of his constituents had been left off a mailing list, this week The Independent’s secret election candidate has been contending with angry humans at hustings and angry canines behind letter boxes

Hustings can be a rowdy or dignified affair depending on who has organised it (Getty Images)

If last week was the week of the manifesto launches, this week has been the week of the hustings.

From the Old Norse hústhing, a house of assembly, hustings can be a rowdy or dignified affair depending on who has organised it, who is attending, and where it is held. I prefer hustings in church – preferably with a diocesan bishop in full regalia complete with crozier and mitre presiding over the meeting. It generally means things won’t get too out of hand.

But I am not convinced hustings persuade anyone. Like a football match, team supporters attend. I have yet to meet anyone whose political views have been greatly swayed by the argument on the night, no matter how powerful it might be.

I have had three hustings this week: two in churches and one in a local further education college. Both church functions were marginally disappointing on two counts. No bishop was in attendance at either and the questions were generally of the slightly whiny variety favoured by those whose optimism escaped them many decades earlier. They also tended to follow party campaigns. And then there was also the almost predictable question against gay marriage. I resisted saying “If you don’t like it, you don’t have to get gay married.”

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At the end of one of the church sessions, I spent 10 minutes discreetly consoling the Ukip candidate who felt he hadn’t done well. This was despite Mr Chawdhary, the local newsagent and postmaster, who sat in the front row noisily applauding everything the Ukip candidate said.

As a marked contrast, the college husting was well attended and the questions were varied and genuine. So it was not possible to refer to our party briefing notes, which all the candidates had brought with them. We actually had to think for ourselves. The optimism and enthusiasm were positively uplifting.

Throughout the hustings, my main opponent was fiddling with his phone. I wondered who on earth he was texting. Was he being sent answers by his researchers? Perhaps he was. But I later discovered he had been tweeting how marvellous he was and how awful I and the other candidates were at answering the questions. Am I missing the social media trick?

This week, the postal votes have hit the doormats too. And more than ever before. For all I know, I’ve already lost. In campaigning, the postal vote is as important as polling day itself which means the need for increased presence, whether it be door knocking or being seen in the town centre. It certainly means getting your literature out earlier than in the past.

Letter boxes are often discussed by candidates as horses would be discussed by bookies. Ones with bristles aren’t good because they require a bit more manoeuvring and scratch your fingers. Ones close to the ground do your back in. The dream ones just open and allow the leaflet to sail through. One colleague I know once posted her phone through by accident – I think they call it phone canvassing.

But the real menace is dogs. Small ones who see you through the window then scamper to the door yapping are a trial. The leaflet must be inserted swiftly with as little finger exposure as possible. The Doberman or similar, who barks deeply then flings himself at the front door with a dull thud, is the ultimate deterrent. Those doors go leaflet-free. My sympathies go out to my local postman.

A favourite and very naughty trick is removing your rivals’ leaflets from letter boxes if they haven’t been pushed through properly. No one admits to doing this – is it theft? – but everyone does.