My friend’s dependability proved to be his vulnerability

Another parliamentary colleague has been murdered. I did not know Jo Cox. But I entered the House of Commons because my predecessor Sir Anthony Berry was killed by the IRA in the Brighton bombing. In 1990, my fellow Conservative MP and a dear friend, Ian Gow, was blown up at his home.

Members of Parliament may deserve many criticisms. But they do not lack courage. The chance that they will be slain doing their duty is now significant. But they do their work with not a thought for their safety. David will not have considered changing his routine, even though he would have understood the risk.

I am deeply saddened and horrified by the news that David has been murdered. He was a very devoted constituency MP, and, of course, he would spend Friday in his patch helping his constituents. That his dependability has proved to be his vulnerability is devastating to us all.

David Amess rose to prominence with a grin – one of the largest ever shown on British television. When his victory in Basildon in the 1983 general election was announced, he abandoned the self-discipline that had kept his expression in check till the official proclamation and rocked back and beamed with joy. It was emblematic of that great Tory landslide.

Thereafter, David maintained his prominence by working into every one of his interventions in the House of Commons the name Basildon; delivered so loudly that the most senior members whiling away the afternoon on the green benches were startled from their slumbers.

When he entered the Commons, he was distinctly boyish, with that huge grin and an improbable fringe of blond hair. But he did not venture into politics as a novice. His ambition had been to own a Rolls-royce in his 20s. He achieved it. He would grin, of course, as he later recalled that naive ambition. But with his shrewdness in business he had pulled it off.

If David had squeaked in on a Tory avalanche, he was not going to be washed out on a Labour thaw. He dug into his constituency and using his popularity and political acuity swerved constituency boundary changes to end up in a more secure seat.

While I trotted around various ministerial jobs, David followed me as my parliamentary private secretary. He

knew the House of Commons intimately and loved it. He was therefore extremely useful to me, offering advice, mounting operations and watching my back against the plentiful Conservative daggers aimed against it.

We met up with a number of nervous Tories defending their seats during the 1997 election campaign.

David was despondent, smelling the exit from parliamentary life. However, it wasn’t he who was on the way out, but I.

David had an excellent ear for local grievance and a great skill at generating local publicity.

He was seriously good at politics. He cared deeply about big issues, certainly those that affected his constituency, but also national issues on which he spoke with absolute conviction.

He was profoundly opposed to the European Union, and his career lasted long enough for him to witness the long civil war in the Conservative Party, and the final victory for the Eurosceptics under Boris Johnson.

It was the moment of victory and for celebration, because he believed that Brexit secured the nation’s best interests. I am pleased that he saw it happen.

David was devoted to Julia, his wife, and his five children. Although he rarely spoke of it to me, he was a man of deep faith.

I found him very loyal. I have good reason to thank him for sticking by me through thick and thin. I saw him frustrated and anxious, but never angry.

He was never given ministerial office, but I never heard him complain. He continued with his constituency duties and to contribute to parliamentary debates with undiminished enthusiasm.

His parliamentary service was outstandingly long. Goodness knows how many MPS came and went over the course of his career while he continued so ably and loudly to represent his constituents.

During his career, he saw MPS were being killed while doing their duty. He would have known the risks and accepted them.

I am not surprised that there was enough material for his book which he published last year and which I was honoured to contribute towards. Nor am I surprised now to see so many tributes pouring in now from across the political spectrum.

He lived a true public servant and his death shocks us all.

Michael Portillo was a government minister from 1987-1997. Sir David Amess was his parliamentary private secretary for 10 years