They were the dying days of Gordon Brown’s Labour Government and within the party there was vicious infighting.

Now, in a new book, ex-Labour whip Helen Jones – who had been hand-picked by Brown as one of his Commons ‘enforcers’ – has given a gripping insider account of the backstabbing, plots and feuds that led to his downfall.

The explosive contents of How To Be A Government Whip, by Ms Jones, the MP for Warrington North, are spelled out on the front cover which screams: Bribery, Blackmail, Thuggery, Revenge, Omerta, Meltdown and Toerags.

Scorning the whips’ traditional vow of secrecy about parliamentary dark arts, Ms Jones gives extraordinary details of the battles that took place behind Labour’s doors and in many cases, as these extracts from the book reveal, names those fuelling the fires…

Enforcer: Ex-Labour whip Helen Jones (pictured) has given a gripping insider account of the backstabbing, plots and feuds that led to Prime Minister Gordon Brown's downfall

You’re very popular among Labour MPs,’ Gordon Brown told me when he rang to confirm my appointment as a whip. I sighed and thought: ‘Well, you’ve just put an end to that.’

The first thing to remember if you wish to be a whip is that you are not entering a popularity contest. It means an end to popularity altogether. From now on, you will, like it or not, be a person your colleagues love to hate. You will need stamina, guile and charm to keep the Government on the road but all you will receive in return is the deep suspicion of colleagues convinced you are lying to them whenever you speak. Much of the time, you will be.

As a whip you will learn to tell your colleagues about the huge value of a piece of legislation while personally believing it to be dangerous or useless, and do so with a smile.

I was well known as a ‘gobby northerner’. Which is probably why Tony Blair, who wasn’t good at dealing with such women, kept me on the back benches.

Gordon Brown was obviously either more forgiving or more desperate.

Shocking though it may be to hear, some Ministers actually plot against the Prime Minister who appointed them. That is why, shortly after I became a whip, I was told that I was going to the Department for Work and Pensions, where James Purnell was Secretary of State. He was a media darling, thought of by the London press as one of the ‘intellectuals’ of the Government, an image which he assiduously cultivated.

He had come into Parliament on what MPs scathingly referred to as ‘the assisted places scheme’. Having worked for Tony Blair, he was sent on secondment to work for Tom Pendry, who was due to retire as the MP for Stalybridge and Hyde.

James was undoubtedly bright and had the irritating habit of always looking over your shoulder when he spoke to you, in case someone more important came along.

Many Labour MPs loathed him and instinctively distrusted any legislation he might bring forward.

My job was to keep an eye on him and to try to head off trouble.

I had to ensure that the Welfare Reform Bill went through, despite Purnell being in charge of it and, in the Chief Whip’s words, ‘find out what he’s up to and stop it’.

The first was manageable; the second would require constant vigilance. James was a master of all the evasive tactics and I had to go and see the Chief Whip to tell him that departmental meetings were regularly being cancelled.

On the Bill, one of my colleagues had been campaigning vigorously for blind people to have access to the higher rate mobility component of DLA [Disability Living Allowance]. Junior Ministers were sympathetic, but it was clear that action was being blocked somewhere along the line.

I had to tell Purnell there was absolutely no chance that we could whip Labour MPs through the lobby to deny giving blind people access to this benefit. I am ashamed to say that I took great pleasure in doing so.

He had a choice between accepting the amendment or being defeated in a Commons vote. He gave in and the law was changed.

No one wants ‘I denied benefits to blind people’ as their political epitaph, and that includes you as whip. Just make sure that you have the backing of the Chief Whip before you threaten a Minister with defeat.

Media Darling: James Purnell (pictured) was undoubtedly bright but many Labour MPs loathed him

James eventually resigned, in an apparent attempt to unseat Brown.

Some Ministers walk out of the Government because they want a change of leader and, no doubt, expect others to follow them.

People like this believe that they are far too important for life on the back benches. They believe that expecting them to carry out the normal duties of a backbench MP, such as turning up and voting, to be a real imposition.

They are far too busy giving interviews about what is wrong with their own Government.

No party likes traitors. Hazel Blears walked out of the Government on the day before key elections, wearing a badge saying ‘Rock the Boat’.

Neither her fellow MPs nor party activists found it at all amusing.

Traitor: ‘Treacherous’ was the word frequently used about Hazel Blears (pictured) when she walked out of the Government on the day before key elections

Her resignation was announced to the assembled whips at their Wednesday morning breakfast meeting after the Chief had received a telephone call. Some put their heads in their hands and sighed. Others just muttered, ‘B******s’.

‘Treacherous’ was the word frequently used about Hazel (and, later, about Purnell) and people’s anger was increased because the resignation had clearly been timed to do the maximum damage.

Hazel’s offence was made worse by the fact that she had been chair of the party and made a career of lecturing others on what they should do. People who behave like this have usually made the fatal error of believing their own publicity.

High flyer turns out to be a complete prat

Once proceedings on a Bill begin, you should never go far from the chamber.

A good Minister will appreciate that you are doing your job, and you can hope that it is not necessary to go as far as one whip who passed a note to a particularly long-winded Minister that read: ‘Shut the f*** up now.’

The Third Reading [of a Bill] is usually led by the Secretary of State. It may sound obvious, but make sure that he or she is there in good time.

Some Ministers make a career of cutting it fine. Indeed, one, very well thought of by the party, once missed the Third Reading of his own Bill because he was chatting to someone in the corridor!

Instead of being introduced by his carefully prepared speech, the Third Reading was moved formally by the whip on bench duty and was over in a flash. The whip was not happy, nor were the senior whips.

Such behaviour is unforgivable and, despite this particular Minister’s glowing reputation, he was considered to be a complete prat by the Whips’ Office from then on.

Kitty's clanger as she misses her big moment

Never forget that Commons committees will start exactly on time whether the Minister is there or not.

I learnt this the hard way on one of the first committees I ever sat on as a whip, dealing with social security legislation.

Former MP for Burnley Kitty Ussher (pictured) was late for a Commons committee meeting, which start whether a Minister is there or not

I was nervous. Everyone was there – except the Minister.

The minutes ticked away and the chairman reminded me that I would have to move the legislation in her absence.

If neither of us were present at the right time, the legislation would fall.

The clock moved on and the chairman nodded at me to speak in place of the absent Minister.

Since it was a very technical matter, I could not just make it up as I went along.

Slowly and very deliberately, I began to read out the explanatory note that accompanied it.

It seemed like the longest few minutes of my life until the Minister strolled insouciantly through the door.

Far be it from me to name and shame, but Kitty Ussher, you know who you are…

Kitty’s remorseful explanation after the committee ended was that she had been outside talking to her officials.

I am still unsure how I managed not to explode….

Yet more useless ideas from 'safe' Jack Straw

We were informed that Jack Straw had promised a pay rise of 40 per cent to both the Information Commissioner and the head of the Electoral Commission.

The assembled whips simultaneously raised their eyes to heaven and invoked the deity.

The reason was simple.

The Information Commissioner had already ruled that certain details of MPs’ expenses had to be published, which did not make him the most popular person in Parliament, and MPs hated the Electoral Commission with a passion.

To cheer the troops up even further, Straw’s department put forward the Political Parties and Elections Bill, which was so badly drafted that it caused normally stalwart supporters of the Government to vote against the whip.

One of the proposals would have allowed the Electoral Commission to enter and search MPs’ homes and offices.

The idea that we should give this spectacularly useless organisation powers that the country did not even allow its police force went down badly with MPs.

Eventually we got rid of that idea.

That these proposals had come from a department where the Secretary of State was generally thought to be a safe pair of hands showed how easy it was for a Minister to become detached from what was going on outside his particular bubble.

Fed up: Jones said she and other party members were sick of endless bad ideas from former Home Secretary Jack Straw (pictured)

Fellow whip Tony Cunningham would plaintively call: ‘Why is it always Jack?’

This would be the cue for a chorus, like a parliamentary version of a Greek tragedy.

‘Freedom of Information?’

‘Jack…’

‘PR for Euro elections?’

‘Jack.’

‘Political Parties Bill?’

‘Jack!’

We were so fed up that I proposed a new Bill to be called the ‘Jack Straw (Repeal) Bill; it was adopted unanimously. It would state: ‘Any legislation introduced by the Rt Hon Member for Blackburn [Straw’s constituency] in any capacity whatsoever is hereby repealed.’

I drag a sick MP to a vital vote and nearly kill him

Labour MP Andrew Gwynne insists that I tried to kill him.

I wasn’t actually trying to put him in the mortuary, just trying to get him to an important vote.

The Chief Whip decreed that everyone was to be brought back. I pointed out that Andrew [a Greater Manchester MP] had been very ill and we should let him stay at home.

But I was overruled so I had to tell him to get on a train to London.

I went to collect him at Euston. The train was late and I feared both of us would miss the vote.

I jumped into a cab without him and went to the House for the 10pm vote. Then Andrew arrived at Euston, whereupon he swiftly collapsed. Attended by his wife, he managed to get into a taxi, and arrived in time for the vote.

Next day he was in hospital with a pulmonary embolism.

The Prime Minister had gone to personally thank him for getting there and the vote was won by a mile.

This did not seem to be any consolation to him, though, judging by the texts he sent me from his hospital bed.

Andrew, to his credit, has never held this against me, apart from telling everyone he meets about my homicidal tendencies.

Ineptitude of the supper-club plotters

Sources in a Minister’s private office can be useful. They are usually friends of friends or someone who has worked for an MP in a previous life.

One group of disaffected Ministers who repeatedly plotted against Gordon Brown had a supper club and, when they were meeting, stupidly, had the engagement put in their diaries.

As we had a contact in one of their offices, the whips always knew the dates they were planning to get together and at whose home.

Such an inept group of plotters doesn’t deserve to succeed and you might well wonder about the capacity for self-deception among people who think that they should be running the country and yet can’t even organise a meeting without their opponents knowing about it.

A Cabinet job snub and an 'I quit' fit of pique

Some Ministers resign out of pique, or to cause problems for the Government.

They decide to go because they believe that the job they have been offered is simply not important enough, or does not reflect their undoubted talents (at least in their own eyes).

One Minister in the last Labour government resigned because she believed that she should be in the Cabinet and the Prime Minister did not share this view. Nor did most of her colleagues.

Gordon's enemy...on parade in the Tea Room

When your colleagues are conspiring against the Prime Minister, you will get an idea of what’s going on by just walking around the building.

See who is having coffee with whom; on summer nights, sit on the Commons terrace and have a drink with your friends and watch who is meeting who.

Enemy: One former Minister, currently in the Lords, was an inveterate plotter against Gordon Brown (pictured) and her appearance in the Tea Room was enough to alert any whip that dirty deeds were afoot

You can see people whispering in corners. You’d think MPs would know better than to plot in full view of the Whips’ Office, but they still do.

One former Minister, currently in the Lords, was an inveterate plotter against Gordon Brown, and her appearance in the Tea Room was enough to alert any whip that dirty deeds were afoot. When things were going well, she was hardly ever seen, but at the first whiff of trouble she would rediscover her old friends in the Commons.

Parliament's sages are just pompous t***s

The Parliamentarians – these are the sages; the wise men and women who will pontificate on every bit of procedure and tell you how to change it. They seldom visit their constituencies because they have far more important things to do and they are the conscience of the nation – or, at least, the bits who read The Guardian.

These are not people who learn to use the procedures of the House.

In their minds, they have far more useful work to do, such as to write books and give interviews about the decline of democracy. Everyone loves them except their colleagues, who believe they are pompous t***s, and their constituents, who are neglected in favour of their academic pursuits. Such sages seldom do proper politics well and constituents don’t read their books.

Loyalists are so valuable...as resident snitches

The unquestioning loyalists are easy to deal with, even if you find them extremely boring.

They would happily troop through the lobbies to introduce the slaughter of the first born or the Gas Chambers (Miscellaneous Provisions) Bill if a Minister told them it was necessary. They are the resident school snitches eager to tell you which colleagues have been disloyal.

These are destined for greatness. They arrive from safe seats, often bequeathed to them at the last moment and which they have only just learnt how to find on a map. They are the chosen ones – destined, they believe, to become Prime Minister, probably in the near future.

The chosen ones who always hold a grudge fall

They won’t worry about any impact legislation may have on their constituencies since they seldom go there and, when they do, have as little contact with normal people as possible.

If they have previously lived outside London, they will decamp to the capital as soon as possible. This is not to be near Parliament, but to be near the Press. It is absolutely vital to them that they are always available to comment on a story, to review the papers or be on television on a Sunday morning, when sensible people are having a lie-in.

Destined: Chosen ones, if they have previously lived outside London, will decamp to the capital as soon as possible - not to be near Parliament, but to be near the Press

Your problems with them will not be with their voting record, but with the fact that they see themselves are ‘rising stars’. Journalists love them because they share the same preoccupations; rising property prices, London schools, the terrible cost of ballet lessons and extra language classes for their children.

Unfortunately, many of these people will become Ministers eventually. They usually group together and have regular ‘suppers’ (London, not country). They promote one another and will always hold a grudge against you.

But this needn’t worry you too much. Watching these little groups form and fall apart is one of the amusements of parliamentary life.

Of course, most of your colleagues loathe them too and so you’ll gain brownie points by being difficult.

She gives me a foolish answer so I bawl her out

There are occasions when a whip has to be heartless, not to care about who you humiliate or the damage you may inflict. That’s why I once bawled at one MP in front of a bunch of firemen. She and I had both gone to the central lobby to look for visiting constituents.

I had been trying to find her for some time and knew she was avoiding me, so I darted across and asked if she would be voting with the Government. She wouldn’t give a straight answer. She moaned about this and that and then, foolishly, added that she had never been invited to No 10.

I bawled: ‘You’re telling me that you are not voting with the Government because you’ve not been invited to No 10!’

The firemen all looked around.

The MP stuttered that it was not just because of that, but I knew that she had lost the moral high ground.

She stalked off and one of the firemen said: ‘She gave you what for!’

‘Yes,’ I said, ‘but she will vote with the Government.’

I was right.

Whip failed to spot the tabloid paper editor

A whip is forced to attend Buckingham Palace garden parties. Your role is to help ‘marshal’ the lines of people waiting to see the Queen or the Duke of Edinburgh.

People love garden parties. They adore being invited on to the lawns of Buck House and then eating their sandwiches and strawberries feet away from the Queen.

For many, it is the highlight of their lives. As a whip, it will not be so for you. You will be walking up and down, trying to look interested, making small talk with the crowd to avoid looking superior. No one knows or cares who you are, and you have a pile of work waiting for you back in the office.

Do not go as far as one whip, who asked a curly-headed lady if she had come far, proximity to the Royals clearly beginning to change her speaking patterns.

‘I’m Rebekah Wade,’ said the editor of the News Of The World, as she was then.

‘Oh yes,’ said this whip, who clearly did not spend time perusing the tabloids, ‘but have you come far?’