Lost in the labyrinth of Euroland

THE EUROPEAN PARLIAMENT

Everything about the European Parliament in Strasbourg is big, from the building and the number of MEPs (758) to the budget and the bureaucracy. Chronicle reporter Martyn Torr spent two days meeting North-West representatives with views both for and against.

THE call from Chris Davies’s office, deep in the never-ending corridors of Europower in Strasbourg, came out of the blue.

Could I make a meeting with the Liberal Democrat MEP at 1.30pm?

Given that I was sitting in the press room, it wasn’t difficult to agree to walk 50 metres down the hall that could have housed my Uppermill home three times over and still left room for a garden.

After all, having spent a day with Chris Davies at his home in Higher Arthurs, Greenfield, it would have been churlish not to see him at work — and, anyway, that’s why I was in Strasbourg, as a guest of the European Parliament Press Office, at its expense, to see these guys at work.

We met in the press bar — yep, we journos have our own (subsidised) bar where cappuccinos are a euro, (4.50 in town) — and from there went on a veritable tour de force.

My host was in a hurry. We barely had time to shake hands before we marched off, heading towards goodness knows where...

“I’ll take you to my office,” he called over his fast-disappearing shoulder. Little did I know this involved a route march through endless corridors, around corners, upstairs and down escalators until we eventually reached a space, we had crossed an internal glass bridge over one of the myriad of river courses that dissect Strasbourg, where two buildings meet.

“Down there,” pointed the North-West Euro-MEP, “Is where the Council of Europe sits.

‘They’re nothing to do with us, nothing at all. They are an entirely separate body. I went down there once, I think.”

This was all related to me in a matter-of-fact voice that brooked no argument.

On my way to the Institutions Europeenes to acquire my press pass credentials I mistakenly arrived at the reception of the Council of Europe and was directed to the European Parliament.

“Just around the back, over the green bridge” I was told.

Forty minutes of brisk walking later I arrived. These are big places.

Chris Davies has just taken me the same route internally and it had taken an interminable amount of time.

His office was neat and tidy and overlooked a waterway — how could it not? — and his PA was a delightful young lady, full of smiles and bonhomie and looking really busy.

Before we had a chance to chat in what passes for this MEP’s workspace for four days a month — when the sessions of the Parliament meet in Strasbourg — we were interrupted by a visitor.

Papers changed hands, glances were passed in my direction and without so much as a nod and wink I had seen an official “leak” take place.

“Oh it happens all the time,” I was told, almost casually, “The officials need these facts and research papers to get into the Parliamentary debate.”

Our Greenfield man was due to take part in a meeting on his specialist environmental subject and the papers were vital to his contribution. But first we needed coffee and a cake in another (subsidised) bar, this one frequented by MEPs and officials.

We chatted amiably about the workings of the institution — Chris Davies is a huge supporter of the European project and firmly believes in its benefits, but is not convinced its delivery is right or cost-effective.

He is dismissive of the need for a Strasbourg HQ but recognises that the Treaty of Edinburgh, since overtaken by the Treaty of Lisbon, means little, if anything, is going to change.

And then he was gone, sprinting up a stairwell to his meeting and leaving me with two empty cups and a hike back to my temporary desk in the press room. Which was miles away. There were no maps.

I marched on into a labyrinth of corridors and cupboards, doorway after doorway, stairwell after descending stairwell until I arrived, miraculously at the expenses office where I was to collect my Eurobooty.

I had to pay up front for my flights and accommodation then take the receipts and boarding cards to the cash office where my 525 euros were restored to me. The cashier raised his Gallic eyebrows in surprise at how little I was claiming.

So how much were the MEPs and Eurocrats claiming, I wondered? Given there are 758 MEPs and goodness knows how many officials and support staff, how much cash was in the drawer?

Perhaps all the 758 MEPs weren’t there, I mused. In fact if they don’t take part in at least half of the votes, the MEPs don’t get paid. So they’re going to be there.

I had dinner that evening in the (subsidised) MEPs and Eurocrats’ canteen. Passing the plat du jour queue I headed for the grill — I had my 180 euros a day allowance tucked in my wallet.

I asked one of the many white-hatted chefs for grilled sirloin steak, fries, ratatouille and green beans, added a crusty roll and butter and added a bottle of Evian water. The bill? Nine euros.

Come on, it was a good deal . . . you don’t expect these MEPs and Eurocrats to waste our money, do you?

I spent two days at the European Parliament, which is used for four days a months, 11 months a year (twice in September since they have August off).

I can’t begin to imagine what it costs to maintain these facilities, the MEPs, the ancillary staff and all the expenses for travel, accommodation and subsistence.

Or the cost of the acres and acres of paper for the multitude of reports and documents, all in 27 languages.

I needed a lie down - probably also subsidised.