Quintin Jardine's blog

Those who know me well are aware that in the Thatcher era I worked for the party of the great and good.

Then, behind Atilla the Hen, its stars included Geoffrey Howe, (I have a memory of him having a fag and an Irn Bru with the late, wonderful, Margot Macdonald) Michael Heseltine, (possibly the best Prime Minister we never had), love him or hate him, the incredibly brave Norman Tebbit, and the charismatic Cecil Parkinson.

Yes, there were some at the other end of the scale. The last two Tory Secretaries of State, pre-Holyrood, for example, men I would cheerfully have followed into withering gunfire. (Until they were past the point of no return: then I would have wished them a cheerful farewell and exited stage right.) And another, a Defence Secretary in the first Maggie administration, who was less acceptable in my view than a turd at a dinner party.

But never at any point back then did I ever imagine that those people would be succeeded by such a car crash as the one we are witnessing now.

I’m trying to find a bright side to look on, but all I can think of is Monty Python.