I’ve now been an MP for just over 17 months, and last Tuesday was, without doubt, the most surreal day yet.

As readers of my previous column will recall, I was due to present my Ten Minute Rule Bill to the House of Commons. A Ten Minute Rule Bill gives a backbench MP the chance to introduce a proposal to Parliament: ten minutes to make your case, no more.

Sometimes these bills pass to the next stage without challenge; other times an opposing MP rises to deliver their own 10-minute rebuttal.

On the afternoon of 9 December, I was in my place on the Liberal Democrat benches, surrounded by colleagues. I took a deep breath and prepared to deliver what felt like a significant moment in this Parliament.

My bill called on the Government to open negotiations on establishing a new UK–EU customs union.

I began — and, not unexpectedly, so did the jeers. I’ve spoken in plenty of emotive debates, so a noisy Chamber isn’t new to me, but this was on another level.

At one point, a Reform MP was practically bellowing directly into my left ear. What you don’t fully grasp from watching at home — thanks to the overhead microphones — is just how loud the Chamber can be.

The noise swells to the point where losing your train of thought is an ever-present risk. Thankfully, I stuck to my script, 15 sheets of paper grasped tightly in my hand.

While heckling and theatrics are part of the Commons’ pantomime culture, they are often balanced by a warm chorus of “hear, hear” from your own benches — a protective bubble of support you don’t truly appreciate until you are standing in the middle of it.

And then my 10 minutes were up: both the longest and the quickest 10 minutes of my life. As I sat down, the Conservative MP for North Dorset, Simon Hoare, rose from the adjacent benches to oppose my bill.

Simon and I have sat on the Northern Ireland Affairs Committee together for the past year and have worked collaboratively on several constituency issues affecting both Dorset and Surrey Heath, including the poor behaviour of companies operating retirement estates.

He is an impressive MP, an engaging speaker, and — despite our different political colours — a friend. Though a “remainer” in 2016, he put up a doughty defence of the opposing position.

As expected, the debate went to a division — the parliamentary term for a vote. Having spoken to many MPs in the preceding weeks, I thought the outcome would be knife-edge close. Still, as I returned to my seat after walking through the voting lobbies, I resigned myself to defeat and quietly tucked away the detailed instructions I’d been given on what to do in the event that I won.

Then something quite out of the ordinary happened. The tellers — the MPs who count the votes and announce the result — seemed unsure where to stand. That hesitation was unusual: their order normally makes the outcome obvious before it is even read out.

Then the reason became clear. The result was 100 Ayes, 100 Noes. Deadlock. The last time the House of Commons was deadlocked in this way was in 2019, with John Bercow in the chair during the tortuous Brexit debates.

Before that, you have to go back to 1993, under the legendary Speaker Betty Boothroyd, during votes on the Maastricht Treaty — a little bit of history repeating itself, again.

The Deputy Speaker reminded the House that parliamentary convention requires that, in the event of a tie, a bill must be allowed to continue its passage so that further debate can take place. She cast her deciding vote for the Ayes.

We had won — an outcome I had never quite imagined possible. So, what happens next?

In parliamentary terms, not very much. A slot has been allocated for a second reading, but that is largely a formality. The time will likely come and go unless the Government chooses to make space for the bill to be debated again.

But the bill has struck a match. It has reignited national discussion about trade, border frictions, red tape and — above all — the levers for economic growth.

Those conversations are only going to get louder, and I intend to keep speaking up.