Helen Grant has decided that Parliament needs a permanent monument to Ann Widdecombe, the former MP who once claimed to have cast out demons and spent two decades saying things that made even other Conservatives squirm. The memorial would sit in the Palace of Westminster, a building already struggling with structural integrity, now tasked with honoring a woman whose political career was essentially performance art directed by her own conviction that she was right about everything.
Widdecombe’s tenure in Maidstone and the Weald was a masterclass in eccentric certainty. She opposed abortion under any circumstance, called homosexuality sinful, and became briefly famous for discussing exorcism on national television with the tone of someone who had definitely seen some things. When she finally left Parliament in 2010, it felt less like a retirement and more like a natural conclusion to a very long pantomime.
Grant’s proposal suggests Parliament could evolve into a theme park of bizarre political figures—a walking tour of people who said things that aged like milk left in direct sunlight. Why stop at Widdecombe? Why not a Liz Truss bounce house, a Boris Johnson funhouse mirror maze, a Jacob Rees-Mogg taxidermy exhibit? The building already contains more theatrical energy than most actual theaters.
The irony is that Widdecombe probably would have loved this. A memorial to her certainty, her unwavering conviction that she alone understood morality, her absolute refusal to doubt herself even when reality suggested otherwise. Parliament finally giving her exactly what she always wanted: a permanent stage, a building in her honor, and absolutely no one brave enough to argue back.