I rush off to the grounds of Westminster Abbey where I am told that a cross-party group of MPs are creating a slum. I stand in front of the Abbey entrance — £12 a ticket, a sum that would keep a family in the real slum of Kibera in Nairobi for weeks — and look for poverty.

I see only tourists collapsed on the lawn, exhausted, in various stages of disarray. “Where is the slum?” I ask Rebecca, the slum media officer. “I can't see it.”

She takes me through the Abbey's cloisters, sacred even when thronged with tourists, and emerge into College Garden with its manicured lawn, soaring plane tree and fountain.

There is a large marquee and, in front, small tables are scattered like confetti. Off to one side I see what looks like a child's hut. “Ah,” I say, peering at the hut. “The slum.”

I spot two MPs — Andy Reed, of Labour, and David Burrowes, of the Tories — posing outside it with a shiny new orange hammer.

It's made of pallets and blue tarpaulin, but is more Wendy House or even Wendy Yurt than actual slum dwelling. If glamping is all the rage these days (glamorous camping for those of you not on trend), then I would have to label this as glumming it.

No stench. No open sewers. No press of humanity. No choke of wood smoke. Still, if it's the thought that counts (and so often it isn't in politics), then this one goes a long way.

For the MPs are to live the life of a slum dweller for 24 hours, part of a programme called Slum Survivor that has been organised by the Christian charities Tear Fund and Soul Action.

“Their supper is lentils,” I am told. I look over and see Andy and David posing with a shiny new colander that is half-filled with tiny orange lentils. It looked most inadequate.

I know it reflects badly on me, but I took pleasure in their frugal fare.

Suddenly I notice that something vital is missing. “But are you allowed to have your BlackBerrys?” I demand.

David Burrowes grimaces: “I'm already detoxing.”

Wow, this was not a soft option. For MPs to survive without their BlackBerrys — well, that is real deprivation.

The next 24 hours of their lives would be controlled, not by the Whips, but by a 17-year-old from Kidderminster named Rachel Tiffany.

She is wearing a T-shirt that says: “There is never a time to turn your back on injustice”. She has just taken her A levels and is passionate about this project, having herself spent five days as a Slum Survivor.

Rachel says that most of their time will be taken up surviving. Their kit consists only of tooth- brush, toothpaste and sleeping bag. They will use an outdoor toilet.

They will walk four miles to get water from a standpipe in Hyde Park (sorry, but that really does sound glummy). They will sleep, with three others, on their cardboard floor. Bedfellows can make for strange politics.

The main task for the MPs (this is like reality television without the cameras) will be to make things out of rubbish to sell.

“They will make paper bags,” Rachel said, “and will have to make their own glue.” But, I replied, they don't have hooves. She looked very stern. They would also make footballs.

All of this was making me feel a bit peckish. It was time to leave. “Bless you,” called out one chap from Soul Survivor.

David Burrowes waved me off. “Enjoy dinner!” he shouted.

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