As one of the few people who accepts the fact that wigs are no longer commonly worn in this place with a certain sad nostalgia tinged with tristesse, I can forgive Sir David that because of his unfailing decency, kindness and extraordinary characteristics in so many other ways. I first became aware of the depths of his intellect when I was on a plane journey with him going somewhere interesting—
probably Belfast. I was whiling away the journey by dipping into the Viz annual and he was reading an old annotated copy of “The Dutch Seaborne Empire”. As he sat there, it was almost as if the air around that noble cerebellum was crackling with the intellectual activity pulsing from that great brain, and I soon came to realise the depth, the breadth and the extent of that extraordinary knowledge.
One evening, the House was wrestling with the very tricky question of the illegal parking of skips on the streets of London, and we turned our minds and our collective consciousness—the intellect of the entire House—to working out how one would actually get rid of an illegally parked skip, and Sir David was sitting in his usual place. The next day, as I walked past his then study, where he was enthroned like the Master of Balliol, he beckoned me inside and said, “This morning at breakfast, my family and I were discussing that question, and there are a few things you should be aware of. Firstly, within the profession, skips are called bins. They are not referred to as skips. To use the expression ‘skips’ immediately identifies you as someone completely unfamiliar with the bulk removal of rubble and refuse. Furthermore, there is a mechanism for the removal of these illegally parked bins, which is well known within the profession. It is a dorsal elevation via lateral lugs.” He drew for me the mechanism, setting out the dynamics of how it could be done, and I thought, “I am in the presence of greatness, because not only is this a man who knows more about the procedure of this House than almost anyone and not only is this a man who has saved the reputations of many a humble parliamentarian by passing them a note—best not repeated on the Floor of the House—but this is a man who understands bulk waste, rubble and refuse removal and was prepared actually to share that with us.”
These occasions are often times of obituary rather than encomiums to those who are still with us. That makes this occasion all the more joyous and all the more joyful, because Sir David is with us and will be with us for many years to come. For however many years he enjoys his time outside and in Dulwich, with all its numerous pleasures that I may one day visit if I am ever allowed, no one in this House has not benefited from his kindness, his decency, his courtesy, his approachability and his wisdom. I cannot imagine anyone capable of doing that job better than he. That is not to put pressure on his successor; I am simply saying that Sir David Natzler is one of a kind. He is the Natzler of Natzlers, the Clerk of Clerks, and I will always be grateful to him.