British Politics: Nepotism, Cronyism, and the Failing Democracy

Nepotism in British Politics: How Power Stays in the Family

The state of British politics is not just disappointing; it’s a festering wound on the body politic, oozing with nepotism, cronyism, and a brazen disregard for the people. We’ve not so much swapped out one set of crooks for another as we’ve witnessed a changing of the guard in a kleptocracy masquerading as a democracy.

Let’s take a moment to shine a harsh light on the case of Liam Conlon, Labour MP for Beckenham and Penge, and son of the infamous Sue Gray. Who knew?

This sorry tale reads like a masterclass in political incest, a how-to guide for those looking to game the system.

Young Conlon found himself the lucky recipient of a £10,000 “campaign donation” from none other than Lord Alli. But let’s not be naive – money in politics rarely travels in a straight line. This tidy sum was also allegedly funnelled through his own mother, Sue Gray, before landing in his coffers.

And lo and behold, what do we see next? Lord Alli, grinning like a Cheshire cat, strolling into Downing Street with a shiny new pass, courtesy of none other than Sue Gray herself.

Coincidence, they’ll cry. A happy alignment of stars, they’ll insist. But we’re not children, and this isn’t a fairy tale. This is the grubby reality of British politics, where favours are traded like playing cards and access is the currency of choice.

The rot runs deep, my friends. We’ve created a system where politicians are more accountable to their donors and cronies than to the people they’re meant to serve. It’s a merry-go-round of favours, a dizzying dance of mutual back-scratching that leaves the average voter feeling nauseous and disenfranchised.

A Deep Dive into Labour’s Nepotism and Cronyism

But let’s not stop at the surface-level rot. Dig deeper, and you’ll find a Byzantine plot worthy of a medieval power play, with family tapestries interwoven through the very fabric of our political system. It’s as if Westminster has become a grotesque parody of a family reunion, with power and influence passed around like party favours.

Take, for instance, the Labour Party’s sibling act. The Eagle sisters, Angela and Maria, representing Wallasey and Garston respectively, or the Reeves sisters, Ellie and Rachel, holding court in Lewisham West and Leeds West. It’s like watching a political version of the Kray twins, only with less obvious criminality and more parliamentary privilege.

Let’s peel back another layer of the Revees rotten onion that is British politics, shall we? Rachel Reeves, the winter fuel allowance snatcher and current Chancellor, isn’t just content with pulling the rug out from under pensioners’ feet. No, it seems the Reeves household has its fingers in multiple pies of power.

Enter Nicholas Joicey, Reeves’ better half and a veritable Whitehall wonder kid. This SW1 high-flyer isn’t just arm candy for the Chancellor; he’s a power player in his own right, nestled snugly at the very heart of government machinery.

Joicey currently holds the lofty title of Second Permanent Secretary and Group Chief Operating Officer at the Department for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs. But don’t let your eyes glaze over at the bureaucratic jargon – this is a man who’s been playing musical chairs with some of the most influential positions in British governance.

He’s had a brief stint as Director General of the Cabinet Office’s Economic and Domestic Secretariat – a role that puts him at the nexus of policy-making. Before that, he was Director General for Finance at the Department for Work and Pensions – how convenient, given his wife’s penchant for tightening purse strings on social spending, now that’s pillow talk – whispering sweet nothings on how to rob the poor and disabled while ensuring the rich keep their hard-earned…

But wait, there’s more! Joicey’s CV reads like a who’s who of Whitehall power broking. He’s been Director General for Strategy, International and Finance at DEFRA, private secretary and speech writer to Gordon Brown during his Chancellor days, a scribe at The Observer (because why not have friends in the media?), and director of the International Department at HM Treasury.

This, dear readers, is what we call a power couple. While Reeves is busy pulling the levers of fiscal policy, her husband is deeply embedded in the very departments responsible for implementing and overseeing those policies.

And let’s not forget other political power couples. Yvette Cooper, MP for Pontefract, is married to the ghost of New Labour past, Ed Balls. Ellie Reeves, not content with having her sister in Parliament, is married to John Cryer, MP for Leyton and Wanstead. It’s less “For better or for worse” and more “For power and for perks”.

It doesn’t stop -Jo White, MP for Bassetlaw, is married to none other than Baron John Mann, the notorious witch hunter and antisemitism tsar. It seems political dynasties aren’t confined to the usual suspects.

From the latest intake, we have MPs like Georgia Gould, who’s already secured a junior ministerial role as a parliamentary secretary in the Cabinet Office—one of five new MPs to get the nod. But this isn’t just any new starter. Gould is the daughter of Blair-era strategist Lord Philip Gould, who famously obsessed over polling public opinion to shape New Labour’s image.

Then there’s Imogen Walker, MP for Hamilton and Clyde Valley, with direct connections to No. 10 as the wife of Morgan McSweeney, Starmer’s head of political strategy and mastermind of his election campaign. Walker and McSweeney both cut their teeth in politics on Lambeth Council, though they’ve since upgraded to the rural calm of South Lanarkshire.

Pat McFadden, now Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster, is another Labour insider with deep ties to the party machinery. McFadden was pivotal in getting Starmer elected, serving as national campaign coordinator, and his wife Marianna, a die-hard party loyalist, was deputy campaign director during the last election. A fixture in the Labour “war room” since 2001, McFadden’s been an MP for Wolverhampton South East since 2005, and it’s no surprise he’s now at the heart of Starmer’s government.

Let’s not forget Hamish Falconer, MP for Lincoln, son of Charlie Falconer, Tony Blair’s old school friend and flatmate. Hamish followed in his father’s footsteps, cutting his teeth in the Foreign Office and now stepping into Parliament himself. Charlie couldn’t quite pull off an MP seat due to his refusal to take his sons out of private school but was handed a peerage instead. With Hamish now in the Commons, it looks like the Falconer family’s political ambitions are alive and well.

But wait, there’s more! The tendrils of this political dynasty reach even into the hallowed halls of the House of Lords. Caroline Dinenage, MP for Gosport, is married to Mark Lancaster, a life peer. Stephen Kinnock, MP for Aberavon and son of Lord Kinnock, is married to the former Prime Minister of Denmark. It’s like a game of six degrees of separation, only everyone’s related and no one’s more than two steps away from power.

Even the Tories are getting in on the act. Esther McVey, the MP for Tatton, is married to Philip Davies, MP for Shipley. One can only imagine the pillow talk – “Darling, how shall we vote to screw over the working class today?”

Notice they never take their married name…

The British political scene is less a democracy and more a family business—an interwoven web of power, privilege, and nepotism where the same names pop up again and again. And it begs the question: are these politicians serving the public, or simply their own dynastic interests?

Talk about draining the swamp, we need to fumigate Westminster and rid ourselves of this infestation. We need more than just oversight; we need a complete overhaul of the system. Politicians must be held accountable not to their paymasters or their family trees, but to the people who put them in office.

We need transparency that goes beyond perfunctory declarations of interest. We need a politics that serves the many, not the privileged few or the few who take privilege.

Until we demand real change, until we refuse to accept this sorry state of affairs as “business as usual,” we’ll continue to be spectators in our own democracy.

We’ll watch as the Sue Grays and Liam Conlons of this world play musical chairs with power, trading favours and access while the rest of us struggle to make ends meet.
It’s time to wake up, to get angry, to demand better.

Because if we don’t, we’re complicit in our own disenfranchisement. We’re handing over the keys to our democracy to those who see it not as a sacred trust, but as a personal fiefdom.

The choice is ours. We can continue to grumble and moan, or we can stand up and demand a politics worthy of the name. A politics that serves the people, not the powerful. A politics that’s transparent, accountable, and yes, even honest.

It’s a tall order, I know. But the alternative is to resign ourselves to this sorry spectacle, to accept that this is as good as it gets. And I, for one, refuse to believe that. We deserve better. We must demand better. The future of our democracy depends on it.