Here is Alex Wickham writing in the new Spectator:
As I walked out of the bar, I noticed a Conservative MP following me. It had been an evening for young political activists, mostly teenage boys, and it was drawing to an end. I pretended to be engrossed in my phone, but the MP - well-liked, universally respected - lurched towards me, placing his arm around my waist and leaning in close. I could smell the whisky and cigars on his breath.
‘I’m just going to the toilet,’ he slurred, winking and gesturing at the gents. I had only worked in and around Parliament for a year, but had been on the receiving end of enough unwanted advances from male Tory MPs to know exactly what he was proposing.