Ferdinand Mount looks at prospects for reforming Britain's electoral methods.

Tony Blair has invited us to think of him as "a pretty straight sort of guy". So far, most people have been happy to take him at his own valuation. When some of us were sharp with him over the affair of Labour campaign donations and grand prix motor racing, we were made to feel rather uncharitable, as though we had complained about the vicar reaching for a second glass of sherry. Mr Blair is usually so willing to listen, so ready to admit the errors of his party's past, and so happy to acknowledge his borrowings from Margaret Thatcher, that one feels bound to put the nicest possible construction on his words. So when he and Paddy Ashdown announced last week that they would go on working together to "put power closer to the people", to renew our constitution and to strengthen individual rights, I am sure the first reaction of many uncommitted voters was to say: "How refreshing." Only the hardened cynics read between the lines to deduce that what the two party leaders really meant was: "Whoopee, and then we can stay in power for ever and ever and dish those ghastly Tories until doomsday." Alas, on present form the hardened cynics may well be right, and those who put their trust in Mr Blair's good faith on constitutional reform may turn out to be as deluded as P G Wodehouse's Madeleine Bassett in her belief that "the stars are God's daisy chain". If Mr Blair really does intend to use his huge Commons majority to pervert the constitution to entrench himself in Downing Street, this would be the most serious abuse of prime ministerial power since the war, the most unashamed instance of what Lord Hailsham called "our elective dictatorship". Other post-war prime ministers have been acutely conscious of the fragility of the unwritten conventions of our constitution. Most of them have been scrupulous about not trying on anything for party advantage that might even bruise those conventions. The only exceptions that stick out in my memory are Jim Callaghan's successful manoeuvre in 1969 to postpone the new constituency boundaries, which were expected to cost Labour quite a few seats, until after the next election. Michael Foot tried the same dodge in 1982, but the courts slapped him down. Then there was Ted Heath's vain effort to cling on to No 10 after the February 1974 election by persuading the Liberals to enter a coalition, when in most people's eyes he had lost the election.

But that was all minor stuff compared with what appears to be Mr Blair's strategy to forge a triple lock on power for himself. I say "appears to be". It may yet be possible that Mr Blair really intends to proceed by all-party consensus but has not yet got around to spelling out his full intentions. The evidence so far, though, is ominous. Last week the leader of the Lords, Ivor Richard, repeated that it was the government's intention to bring in a bill to throw out the hereditary peers, but to postpone any second-stage reform of the House of Lords until the next parliament. There is no guarantee that this second stage would ever happen. For five years, perhaps for ten, perhaps for decades, the House of Lords would be Tony Blair's poodle - just as Lloyd George called it "Mr Balfour's poodle" when it had an inbuilt Tory majority. Indeed, the only conceivable reason for not carrying out the whole reform in one go is to give Mr Blair this "poodle period". Lord Richard denied there were any "plans to flood the Lords with party appointees". But there wouldn't need to be any explicit plans or even a formal Labour majority in Mr Blair's House of Poodles. Any squeak of trouble from them and the next day Her Majesty would be graciously pleased to summon another dozen Labour hacks to the upper house. That is Blair's first lock on power. And it would substantially assist him in the use of his second lock: the debased referendum. A tame House of Lords would not be able to protest against Blair using his enormous majority to manipulate the timing of referendums, to make the question as vague or as loaded as he pleased, and to dominate the campaign. This is more reminiscent of the rigged plebiscite favoured by pre-war dictators than a modern rule-based referendum of the American sort. I don't like the sound of the evidence the Labour party gave this week to the Neill inquiry, urging legal limits on referendum campaign spending. The idea obviously is to muffle the potential opponents such as the Eurosceptics and leave the field clear for ministerial propaganda. The rigged referendum is also vital for the third lock: the move to proportional representation, aimed at keeping a Lib-Lab coalition in power for the foreseeable future. The likely consequence would be a sludgy, sleazy, indecisive sort of government, a mixture of the Glasgow Labour party and the Italian Christian Democrats at their worst. They would be chucked out in the end, of course, but only after doing a good deal of damage. All the prime minister needs do is to pick a decent moment for a referendum on "fair votes", while his government is still popular. Lord Jenkins will pass among us exuding gravitas and report that his hand-picked little group has decided on the ideal method of PR, and in no time we shall be afforded the inestimable privilege of placing our X in the yes box. And the only people we shall be "putting power closer to" are Tony Blair and the Blairites.

Well, if that is how it is going to be, it will be a con, a scam and a stitch-up, and it must be resisted with cunning and fury. Any substantial change in the voting system ought to be put to a Speaker's Conference at which all parties are represented. That has always been the way in the past, and it should be the way in the future. As a matter of fact, I doubt whether PR would win a majority even in a manipulated referendum. The disadvantages of PR are becoming more obvious all the time. Italy has seen the light, New Zealand is already repenting of going over to PR after barely 18 months of the new system. In Britain the stench of powerlust would reach the most insensitive nostrils. No doubt Blair could shove a PR bill through parliament, just as he could force through the bill to expel the hereditary peers, but in these circumstances peers, like MPs, would have the right to exhaust every lawful means of opposition and delay. And even the most beloved of governments never emerges quite unbesmirched from these prolonged constitutional battles. Asquith didn't in 1910, Harold Wilson didn't in 1969. Lord Cranborne and Lord Onslow may seem unlikely defenders of our democracy, but defenders of liberty often are unlikely, from John Wilkes the 18th-century pornographer to the backbench troublemakers of today, a loudmouthed rancorous lot, frequently no strangers to strong liquor and/or strange women. All this could be quite unnecessary. Mr Blair could announce that, on second thoughts, he would like to reform the House of Lords in one go, on the advice of an all-party committee. I am sure that such a committee could reach agreement on a part-elected, part-nominated house. That all-party committee could easily agree to lay down some rules for referendums, too. And Mr Blair could ask the same committee to look at alternatives to our first-past-the-post voting system. There they would not manage to find an agreed alternative. Nor should they. The system we already have is the best there is. It keeps the hot breath of the electorate down the government's neck. When you set about changing the rules, it is absolutely crucial that you should abide by the rules and conventions as they stand. If Tony Blair shows that he understands this, then I would go on thinking of him as a pretty straight sort of guy. If not, comparisons between this government and the Brands Hatch circuit may come to mind: full of hot air, nasty smells and wriggly bits.