How often do you hear Members of Parliament laugh? Discounting the forced laughter at conference gags and the jeering in the Commons, you would be forgiven for thinking that politicians were humourless by nature.

The apparent exception is Jess Phillips, Labour MP for Yardley. Despite only taking her seat in 2015, she is already regarded as one of Parliament’s most outspoken – and humorous – advocates for women’s rights. 

With a background in working with sexual abuse victims, Phillips might be forgiven for conversational sobriety. Instead, she pulls off a combination of sardonic irony and deep compassion with aplomb, laughing throughout our conversation. This is in spite of the difficult subject matter – a difficulty which becomes clear when I ask her about the hurdles facing those who address women’s issues.

“You don’t get direct backlash from the government or men within the Labour Party. The difficulty is whether anyone is listening,” she replies. “People try to delegitimise your voice by moaning, ‘Oh, she’s always on about women’s issues. Let’s just sit here and let it wash over us, while Jess goes on another tirade.’”

She indicates her frustration that women’s issues are not taken sufficiently seriously within some circles: “This is a mainstream political issue, as important as the economy, or foreign policy, or housing. We’re half the population! But the hardest thing about discussing women’s issues is making sure that people don’t think it’s your hobby horse. You still get the reaction of ‘Well, you would say that, wouldn’t you?’”

“It’s ironic because we never say that to men who have great hobby horses,” she observes. “When was the last time you heard somebody say: ‘Oh, George Osborne, always bloody going on about the deficit. So sanctimonious!’? We only do that to women’s voices.”

“Recalling the American feminist slogan, ‘Nevertheless, she persisted’, Phillips declares: ‘This is my revolution; I will keep on’”.

Phillips also makes plain the online abuse she receives, often daily. “First on the list is that I’m only raising the issue to ‘seek attention’, or because of the prominence it gives me. Then of course people just insult you: they say that you’re stupid, common, fat, ugly – every misogynistic trope you can think of.” As she quips in Everywoman, her feminist manifesto, “the Internet attracts a classy crowd”.

Humour is also central to her response to the abuse. “I’m much funnier and cleverer than the Internet trolls, so it’s very easy to make them look small with a few words’ rebuttal,” she replies, with apparent nonchalance. “If I’m on a long train journey – which I often am – you can fill your time by being better than trolls. I don’t like the idea of the bullies taking over the playground, so I fight back.” 

Although she admits that “there are days when I feel so tired by it all”, she maintains that “the only way you can counter it is to keep going”. Recalling the American feminist slogan, ‘Nevertheless, she persisted’, Phillips declares: “This is my revolution; I will keep on going”.

Jess Phillips is far from alone in her battle; she points to encouragement from across the Commons’ aisle. “There is support, from both men and women. The best example is Maria Miller; we’re constantly in the trenches together.” There is also legislative collaboration: “The Home Secretary, for example, will invite me in to talk about the Domestic Abuse Bill, which is currently being written. That’s just good politics.”

However, Phillips would be the first to admit that not all politics is good.  Alluding to the recent decision at the Party conference to avoid staging a potentially contentious vote on Brexit, I ask Phillips whether she feels there is sufficient debate within Labour. She comes staunchly to the Party’s defence: “Labour does very little other than debate things! Up and down the country, every local Labour party, every regional party and the national party are all debating these issues. On Brexit singularly, the Party’s position has moved because of that internal debate.”

“I find the cult-like reception of anyone – be it Tony Blair or Jeremy Corbyn – difficult. I won’t be joining the choristers.”

I switch to the issue of the Party leadership. Phillips, along with others, has previously questioned Corbyn’s electability. However, she wrote after the election that it was “time to stand up and say that we got some of that wrong”.  Was she entirely happy with the adoration lavished on Corbyn at the Party conference, though?

She laughs at the suggestion of a cult of Corbyn. “I’m never happy with adoration – full stop,” she says. “Coming from Birmingham, where highest form of praise is ‘Yeah, it’s alright’, any level of adoration is awkward. Nothing will make me stare into my pint more than people praising me. So I find the cult-like reception of anyone – be it Tony Blair or Jeremy Corbyn – difficult. I won’t be joining the choristers.”

This is a smart answer: the self-deprecating Brummie charm leaves her deeper thoughts on Corbyn’s post-election premiership ambiguous. A more cynical observer might wonder whether that charm and ambiguity was calculated. Fortunately, it isn’t. Phillips is just refreshingly and, on occasion, brutally honest.

“Labour politicians benefit from people hating the Tories – hating them hard.”

This honesty shines through best when she speaks about today’s febrile and partisan political climate. She acknowledges that politics has never been so divisive in her lifetime. However, she indicates that politicians could do more to make politics ‘kinder’. 

“Political division keeps power where it’s wanted,” she explains. “Political division, hatred of immigrants, hatred of women is never accidental. When done by political leaders, like Donald Trump, it is done to bolster their own positions. Although we say we hate division and we hate the febrile atmosphere, we benefit from it as well. Labour politicians benefit from people hating the Tories – hating them hard. And if you don’t speak out against it, then you’re essentially colluding with it.” Have you ever heard a Labour MP say that before?

She then criticises Theresa May for “colluding with horrible ant-Muslim attacks” in the Daily Mail. Likewise, she wants Jeremy Corbyn to criticise his own supporters, “when The Canary lies about Laura Kuenssberg”. It’s a bold backbencher who is willing to serve criticism to both sides so freely.

“If Jess Phillips can lead a fiery feminist revolution with a dose of good cheer, you would be a fool to bet against her succeeding.”

She also points out that we only hear admiring comments made about political opponents when they are dead. “When Anna Soubry got death threats from Brexiteers, it wouldn’t have hurt Jeremy Corbyn to say: ‘I don’t agree with Anna Soubry but she is a decent, fiery Member of Parliament and her voice deserves to be heard.’ That’s what he would have said about her were she dead.” Given that Phillips was friends with the late Jo Cox, these words ring with poignancy. The whip-smart Twitter come-backs and imagery of playground bullies suddenly feel very distant.

Phillips ends on an optimistic note, though. She remains confident that her honesty will eventually infect the whole political class. Indeed, she notes that questions of honesty and perceived authenticity lie behind both Jacob Rees-Mogg’s sudden surge in popularity and Theresa May’s struggling premiership. “When you can’t get a genuine, honest reaction from a politician, nothing that they say is believable. They don’t seem to feel what they say. And that’s the whole job, it really is.”

In an age of po-faced podium speeches and routine regurgitation of pre-fabricated slogans, politicians often seem pathologically averse to flashes of humour and feeling. If Jess Phillips can lead a fiery feminist revolution with a dose of good cheer, you would be a fool to bet against her succeeding