As Government Chief Whip, it's up to Hilary Armstrong to keep MPs in check. She talks to Women's Editor Christen Pears about her work and why she's not the sinister figure she's sometimes made out to be.

SHE'S been accused of bullying and intimidating her fellow MPs and branded one of Tony Blair's "attack poodles", but Government Chief Whip Hilary Armstrong takes it all in her stride.

"You can't be in this job if you're going to get upset about things. You just have to live with it," she says in a typically down-to-earth manner.

Brought into the Cabinet following last year's General Election, the North West Durham MP ran into trouble almost immediately over the sacking of two popular, and independent-minded, select committee chairmen, which prompted a backbench revolt and forced the Government into an embarrassing U-turn.

And then there was her infamous and very public clash with MP Paul Marsden about his opposition to the war in Afghanistan. According to Marsden, who has since defected to the Lib Dems, the Chief Whip compared him to those who wanted to appease Hitler and told him the war was not a matter of conscience - something she strenuously denies.

"At the end of the day, most people realise I didn't say the things I was accused of saying. Paul Marsden had an agenda and it was convenient to put all the blame on the Whips' Office," she says.

"It's the sort of job that, in one sense, is just there to knock. It's all behind the scenes and there is a certain image and a history attached to it. People do sometimes see us as the bad guys. All the problems I have had are largely because of that."

Most people's ideas about chief whips are based on the political thriller House of Cards, in which the Machiavellian Francis Urquhart plots the downfall of the prime minister. Ironically, Hilary's late father, Ernest, was a consultant for the BBC adaptation of the book. "My dad was a junior whip under Harold Wilson so, when he retired, they asked him to be involved in the programme," she laughs. "It is quite funny when you think about it, but there is a serious side to it all."

Because of the negative way in which the Chief Whip is often perceived, Hilary is trying to make the work of the Whips' Office more open. She's also making changes to the way in which the whipping system works.

"In a party the size of ours, you just cannot use the old methods. Intimidation will not work. MPs know that, with a majority of 150 or so, they can do what they like anyway.

"I have never said to a single MP 'you cannot have those views'. I try to find ways in which their views can be heard, because it's important for ministers to hear them. But, at the end of the day, once a decision is made, you have to abide by that. That's what collective responsib ility is."

At 56, you get the sense that Hilary is at ease with herself. Wearing a sharp suit and some of her trademark contemporary jewellery, she's confident and relaxed, and she has a no-nonsense attitude - no doubt honed over her years as a teacher, lecturer and social worker.

Her political rise has been a slow and steady one. After joining the Labour Party at the age of 15, she became a member of both the Northern regional executive committee and women's committee. She served as a Durham county councillor and secretary of the Sunderland North Labour Party before beginning to look for her own seat in 1983. She was unsuccessful at first, but the opportunity to become an MP presented itself four years later when her father announced his retirement from Durham North West.

"Dad and I were very proper about it and he only told me he was going to retire just before he told the party. I then had to take a decision on whether I went for the seat because it was my dad's and, of course, I decided to go for it. It had a major influence on some party members - some positive and some negative - and it was a very hotly-fought selection. I got it, but only just."

Worried that people would see Hilary as just his daughter, Ernest kept away from Parliament following her election, although he did go to hear her maiden speech. "We got on very well and I miss him enormously. The biggest sadness in my life is that he died before the 1997 election victory, so we didn't have a chance to share our thoughts about a Labour government."

He would surely have been proud of his daughter who, following a period as Local Government Minister, became only the second female Chief Whip in the party's history. It's her responsibility to maintain party discipline and ensure the smooth running of parliamentary business and, despite the hectic schedule and criticism, she clearly relishes the challenge.

"It's an absolutely great job and is very different from what I was doing in a department. I'm right at the centre of what is going on and I have to keep an eye on what is going on across government because, at the end of the day, it's my responsibility to make sure we get our manifesto commitments through Parliament."

As if to prove her point, her pager goes off. It's a message to let her know what's going on in the Commons that day. She gives it a cursory glance, apologises for the interruption and picks up the thread of the conversation.

"People think being Chief Whip is just a disciplinary role but actually it's not. We've been introducing a new whipping system which is specifically about care responsibilities. A lot of my job is about personnel management and getting the best out of people in Parliament."

Despite reforms over the last few years, the House of Commons is still a predominantly male environment, prompting regular flurries of complaints from female MPs, particularly about the long, irregular hours and "boys' club" atmosphere. But Hilary, who backed the controversial policy of all-women shortlists for the 1997 election, doesn't find being a woman in Parliament poses any problems, even when she's telling the men to toe the party line.

"I've now been doing this for so long that I don't find it a trial, but I am very realistic and just get on with things. I do think that women particularly appreciate having a woman whip. I'm not saying that a man wouldn't understand things, but I think perhaps they see me as more approachable."

Although she's usually in London when Parliament is sitting, she doesn't have to travel as much as she did in her previous role and this means she's able to spend just as much time in the constituency as she did before. "In a way it's wonderful but I think it's more difficult for my constituents because, in my previous job, they would see me regularly in the newspaper launching a regeneration programme or visiting an estate where we had put in money to tackle social exclusion. Now, I have a much lower public profile and we have a joke in the office about how long we can mange to stay out of the headlines. But to my constituents, it probably seems as if I've disappeared."

Brought up in Sunderland, the North-East plays an extremely important part in her life and, when she was looking for a seat, she decided she wanted a constituency in the region.

"I get my sanity back by coming home as often as possible," she says. "My husband Paul is a Londoner, so he calls London home, but I call up here home. Somehow it works very well.

"In fact, Paul is key to everything. He makes sure I survive. I thrive on the pressure of the job but I do get tired, so he intimidates my diary secretary and about every six weeks I get a free weekend. He also does all the cooking, which is great."

The only drawback is that she sometimes finds the jacket to her suit is in London while the trousers are at home in Crook, or she only has one shoe with her.

"It's a schizophrenic life but I love it. It's a great privilege and I think I'm really lucky to be doing what I'm doing."