Luke Charters MP: speeches

Speeches

• 14 Sept 2026 · Student Loans · Hansard source

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  May I, too, pass on my condolences to the Prime Minister and his family? I declare that I am a plan 2 borrower, and I know from first-hand experience how unclear the loans were at the time. Will my right hon. Friend say a little more about how the Government are clearing up the guidance given to borrowers? How does she wish to overhaul the Student Loans Company?

• 10 Sept 2026 · Fathers and Positive Male Role Models · Hansard source

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  I welcome the Minister back to his post. Will he commit to working with the new class unit set up by the Minister for Women and Equalities as part of her work?

• 10 Sept 2026 · Fathers and Positive Male Role Models · Hansard source

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  It is a pleasure to serve under your chairship, Mrs Hobhouse. I am chuffed that we are having this debate, as, reportedly, I am the youngest parent in Parliament. I was the first dad to take extended parental leave as an MP by appointing an MP representative, but we want a similar opportunity for all dads across the country. Post-war Britain was built by working-class families, who frankly deserved more time with their kids. The fact is, they never really got it, and that continued into the ’60s and ’70s—my dad’s generation. My dad came from a council house to become a joiner, but it was his dad who went down the pit, and it was my mum’s dad who worked on the floor of a bacon factory—one powered the nation, one fed it, and my dad helped to build it. I will never shy away from telling their stories, because I am proud of them. For their generation, work came first, because they felt it had to. The role of a dad in society has shifted and continues to evolve. Fathers rightly taught important lessons about graft, grit and hard work, but the role is changing, and now, as society shifts, the greatest contribution a man can make to society is by being a present father. The biggest barrier to that is the fact that Britain’s paternity leave remains among the weakest in western Europe, and I am proud that this Labour Government are committed to ending that injustice. We have been lagging behind, because Sweden began normalising hands-on fatherhood in the ’70s. The image was simple: the latte papas—a dad with a toddler, a pram and a coffee, spending time with his children alongside his friends. Norway went further in 1993, introducing four paid weeks reserved for fathers with full-wage compensation. Yes, it was a Labour Government who introduced statutory sick pay in the noughties, but the fact of the matter is, right here, right now, in Britain, we are 40 years behind Norway and Demark. Research from the University of Copenhagen links longer parental leave with better wellbeing, better emotional stability and behaviour later in life. Swap Stockholm’s pastries for Yorkshire puddings, swap Copenhagen’s Lego and follow the shared Viking heritage, and we can see that York is leading on advocacy for greater parental rights today. The Joseph Rowntree Foundation, which is headquartered in my constituency, has published research that shows that six weeks of statutory paternity leave at 90% of earnings could deliver a net economic gain of £2.7 billion a year to the UK economy. Whether it is the University of York’s equal parenting project, or my constituent Joeli Brearley, founder of Pregnant Then Screwed, York is putting parental rights firmly on the national agenda. I try to balance my job with being a present father, including bringing my boys here to Parliament. That might mean explosive nappies before votes, running around in the family room, or even sneaking them into the Tea Room for jelly and toast. My boys have become two little mascots who have joined me every step of the way in my campaign for better paternity leave for dads. I remember being at the Movember head office, where I was talking to the legendary Dad Shift and Mother Pukka. I will never forget the kindness of Amy O’Connor at Movember, who made Robin, my son, some slices of toast. Putting my kids first does not make me a worse MP; it makes me a better, more grounded one. When my boys are here with me in Parliament, we make happy memories together as a family, but when they are not here, we miss each other. This week, we all cried at the end of a FaceTime call. Even at three, Robin understands that when his daddy is away, he is out there maybe fighting for other families. I really believe that a world powered by a parent’s love of their children is just a world that is better for all of us.

• 8 Sept 2026 · World Suicide Prevention Day · Hansard source

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  I thank my hon. Friend for all her work on this issue. I struggled with my own mental health after the traumatic birth of my son, as I think she knows. It was friends and family, including my hon. Friend the Member for Scarborough and Whitby (Alison Hume), who helped me, but in York we also have fantastic local groups like Menfulness, founded by Dr Jack Woodhams. Will she praise them and thank them for getting men to talk, whether through sport, football or walking?

• 8 Sept 2026 · Online Safety · Hansard source

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  As the youngest parent in this place, I warmly welcome the Secretary of State’s leadership and that of our Prime Minister. Will she look at AI-enabled smart glasses, which could be filming our children, and the content from them that is being put online? Will she also look at loopholes in VPN usage—in particular, with app-based browsers—as she looks to progress the measures?

• 15 Jul 2026 · Regional Accents and Social Mobility · Hansard source

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  It is a pleasure to serve under your chairship, Sir Roger. I congratulate my hon. Friend the Member for Leigh and Atherton (Jo Platt) on securing today’s debate. I have spent a fair bit of time near her patch over the past couple of months, and though we bang on about the Yorkshire-Lancashire rivalry, we are united by a few things: some of the best food in the country—including the finest pies—and of course, the warmth and friendliness that we are all proud of, and of which she is one of the finest examples in this House. I want to be crystal clear: judging someone by their accent is an attitude that belongs firmly in the history books. I must admit that, when I first arrived in Parliament, I often felt out of place and like I did not belong—all because of my accent. Like many colleagues here today, I was not elected because I sounded polished; I was elected through hard graft and to represent the people who sent me here. I have done my best, though, to get a few Yorkshire phrases into Hansard , because that is how my constituents speak. I will kick off by giving a few more, having turned to Facebook for some inspiration. There is some disagreement, and I am risking controversy here, but I stand firmly with saying “ginnel” over “gennel”—some things you have to get right. What came through clearly is that the Yorkshire dialect is not just colourful, it is precise. When someone is “mithering”, you know exactly what they are doing. If they have a “mardy”, you know what that means, and if they have “a monk on”, you know to stay well clear. When someone says, “It’s gone reyt,” you know it has gone properly well. Many of these words carry real history: “laiking”, “beck” and “fells” are all rooted in Old Norse. Long before Westminster caught up with the north, we were already shaping a language of our own. Yet too often, these words can draw blank looks—even within our own region. Mention a “snicket”, “ten foot” or “fuddle”, and you will quickly find out who understands proper Yorkshire. It was not just in Parliament where I felt out of place; it was also at Oxford. I am incredibly proud to be a state-school kid who worked hard to get there, but when I did, some of the older tutors actually mocked the way I spoke. They were not correcting my grammar or debating my ideas; they were judging whether somebody who said “nowt” really belonged in their so-called hallowed halls. Research shows that nearly a third of university students have been mocked because of their accent, and almost half of workers say that they face jokes or jibes about the way that they speak in workplace settings—including me, in my experience at the Bank of England. I felt it when I started doing national media as an MP, too. I turned up, ready to talk about serious issues, such as getting funding for a station in my constituency, or tackling antisocial behaviour—standing up for my constituents—but too often I felt as if only clipped southern voices sounded suitably authoritative. I was not always invited on to programmes—although, strangely enough, there was never any shortage of invitations to those where the producers would tell me how much they love a proper, thick Yorkshire accent. I really appreciate that, and those producers know who they are. I am especially grateful to broadcasters such as Matt Chorley, who is helping to challenge some of the assumptions in national broadcasting and to get regional accents on air. The real success, of course, will be hearing someone from Yorkshire or Lancashire on national radio or TV without it being worth commenting on at all. I am immensely proud to be from God’s own county. I have always tried to stay authentic to my roots—a West Yorkshire family, a North Yorkshire upbringing, and always proud to represent York—but I would be lying if I said I had not softened my accent at times, including when working in the City, because I thought that was what I had to do if I wanted people to take me seriously. I do not want my two boys, Robin and Louis, to grow up believing that if they want to pass an interview or land a graduate job, the first thing that they have to do is to change how they speak. When a young person starts believing that they have to hide or change their accent, it chips away at their confidence. I believe also that we are wasting talent. Businesses across Britain are facing a productivity hit if they overlook good, honest graft for absolutely no reason. A young person from Haxby or Bishopthorpe should not be marked down because they do not sound like they grew up in Belgravia. By the way, I should also give a special mention to “Bratford”—or, as some may say, “Bradford”—where the same applies, of course. If the best jobs in finance, law or politics still mean moving to London—and that has to change, by the way—and sounding like you have always lived there, we have not solved the problem; have we? I want children watching Parliament on television to hear someone who sounds like them, not someone who they feel they have to become. Otherwise, too many young people will carry on believing that making it means leaving part of themselves behind. Whether someone grew up saying “ey up”, “nowt” or “summat”; whether they call an alleyway a snicket; whether they tell their mates “It’ll be reyt”; or whether they are simply “chuffed to bits”, their voice is never something to be ironed out; it is part of who they are.