Tim Farron

Further to that point of order, Mr Speaker. I wish to add my words of tribute to my friend, Ming Campbell. He had an impact on me long before I met him. The first general election I was active in was 1987. No offence to any other Liberal MP at the time—none of them are present here—but I was very impressed with Ming Campbell. He struck me as not being like other Liberal MPs: he looked like he could actually run the country. [Laughter.] He had gravitas. I am pretty sure that is what I said to my mother in the early hours of, I think, 12 June 1987, when he gained North East Fife from the Conservatives: “You look the real deal. You look incredibly competent.” And of course, in the years that followed, he demonstrated that. We have talked about the Iraq war. What Ming Campbell did—yes, applying his legal expertise and insight into international law as well as the law of this land—was to make the connection, in what is often thought of as the esoteric business of human rights, that human rights are about human duties. They are about making sure that nobody is above the law—no Prime Minister and no President. He made that clear and made it crossover into public consciousness in a way that was really very remarkable. I then realised I had a connection with Ming. When I met my wife, Rosie, in the ’90s, it turned out that her now, sadly, late father, Mark Cantley, opened the bowling with Ming at Glasgow Hillhead. They had not spoken to each other for 30-odd years until Ming came to do a talk at the university at Ambleside shortly after I had been selected, and the two of them continued a friendship until Mark’s passing just two years ago. In 2005, the year I was elected, the late, great Charles Kennedy was meant to be doing the constituency visit to Westmorland, but his son was born the night before. Ming got drafted in at the last minute and did two visits for me—when you win by 267 votes, every single thing counts, so I have him to thank for that. When Ming became leader in 2006, I had the honour of serving as his Parliamentary Private Secretary. What insight did I get during that time? He was obsessed with sport and running, and, despite the fact that this was a man who could run 100 metres in 10 seconds, he was incredibly generous in hearing the stories of somebody who was a 10th-rate fell runner. In my time as leader, Ming was a great source of advice and wisdom. After that time, he and his wife, Elspeth, who we have mentioned, would regularly go on holiday in Ullswater, and they would always make a point of doing a visit in Westmorland—whether we asked them or not. [Laughter.] My recollection is of Ming talking to the local newspaper or TV station and Elspeth with not simply a fag but a pink cigarette holder, looking every bit a real-life Lady Penelope from the “Thunderbirds”. One of our predecessors, the late, great Jo Grimond, once said that the best Liberal candidate should dress to the right and talk to the left. Ming Campbell bore all the airs of an establishment figure and was a radical to his dying breath. He was kind, wise, decent, talented and loyal. He was my friend, and I miss him.