Nearly four centuries after the English Civil War, the country still feels like it readily divides into Cavaliers and Roundheads. That is, liberty and pleasure seekers versus puritans. Few issues reveal the two tribes more swiftly than attitudes towards the Palace of Westminster’s nine bars. Bon vivant Tories such as Thérèse Coffey and Kwasi Kwarteng have gone on record supporting the hostelries, while eight Labour backbench MPs put forward proposals last year to curb Parliament’s drinking hours. Nigel Farage is never knowingly photographed without a pint in hand. Of course, these things don’t necessarily line up according to party affiliation: Labour’s Lucy Powell pointed out last year that Westminster provides the ideal secure environment for harassed politicians to relax after a day’s work.

The issue is back in the news after 35-year-old Hannah Spencer, who was elected as a Green MP earlier this year, told PoliticsJoe this weekend that one striking aspect of her early weeks in Parliament had been noticing the smell of “alcohol when people are in between votes”. She talked reprovingly of walking past a room in Westminster where “people are just sat having a drink”, saying that cleaners “or someone working in a bank” wouldn’t be able to return to work with the reek of booze on them.

When Spencer uses drinking in a bar to demonstrate how “out of touch” the Commons is with the rest of the world, I question whether she’s really the uber-representative everywoman she tries to be. I was raised in a country pub in Kent, which my parents ran for decades. I saw the bar thronged at lunchtime and early evening with men and women from every walk of life: farm labourers, local business types, journalists, tree surgeons, teachers, horse trainers and sometimes the local MP. Mum particularly liked Michael Fallon.

Regulars were perfectly capable of having one beer, a pint of shandy, or a small glass of wine, then returning to their toils. I’m aware we’ve become more scolding about daytime drinking this side of the millennium, but Britain is still largely a culture in which many workers slip out for mildly boozy lunches and rather more enthusiastic end-of-day drinks. Has Spencer hung out with lawyers, traders, academics, think-tank wonks, vicars, farmers, small businesses owners, or anyone in the media, fashion, entertainment and retail industries? Clearly, no one wants airline pilots or surgeons boozing on the job, but creative types may even find inspiration strikes brighter after a drink.

Nor is Westminster the only workspace with bars. University campuses, big tech companies and historic council buildings often come with facilities to keep their employees happy. The BBC and the Tower of London both have on-site drinking spaces. If you have people working very long hours then you ought to keep them happy, and a boozer is one surefire way to ward off rebellion.

Commons voting generally takes place in Westminster after the main business of the day is done. It can be 10pm on a Monday and around 7pm on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. Why should anyone be stone-cold sober for expressing yay or nay, when it’s the forethought that counts?

I first went into Parliament aged 16, shadowing an old-school BBC World Service politico — who drank in my parents’ pub — for work experience. He made it a point of honour to take me round every bar, introducing me en route to Ken Clarke, who famously downed whisky while delivering the Budget. I was fascinated to observe cross-party friendships and swiftly realised the post-debate gossip and bonhomie were as much part of Westminster as tense chamber exchanges. In fact, I blame my subsequent life choices on those heady few days of history, politics and, for me, a ginger beer. Lest we forget, being in a bar doesn’t mean you’re getting sloshed.

I resent many aspects of our current political system — dodgy donors, cronyism and the rest — but I don’t begrudge MPs enjoying a G&T on the terrace. It almost certainly puts them more in touch with the public than being a teetotaller. Winston Churchill is still held in high esteem for both public service and devotion to the champagne industry, saying: “I have taken more out of alcohol than alcohol has taken out of me”. Let’s rail against corruption and deceit in Westminster, but not the faint whiff of London Pride.

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Rowan Pelling is editor of The Amorist and a comment writer for the Daily Telegraph. She edited The Erotic Review magazine for eight years (1996-2004)

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