We have lost our sovereign: the most remarkable woman and the longest reigning monarch in British history, who in 70 years barely ever put a foot wrong. She was perhaps the most famous person in the world, and possibly the most popular, too.
If the House will indulge me, it is almost a year since we lost our great friend Sir David Amess, who I mention because it is fair to say that he was rather keen on the monarchy, and on Her late Majesty the Queen in particular. I well remember how he was bursting with pride when she knighted him, with an investiture at Windsor. He subsequently told our local paper, The Echo,
“who would ever have thought that a boy from the east end of London would one day be knighted by a Queen in a castle?”
If he were here today, he would have paid the most fulsome tribute to Her late Majesty, so perhaps I can do that for him in lieu.
I had the immense privilege of serving Her late Majesty as Vice-Chamberlain when I served in the coalition Whips Office from 2010 to 2012. It is an ancient office, but essentially it has three modern functions, the first of which is to act as the monarch’s messenger to Parliament. On the first occasion when I had an audience with her, I was completely terrified. It was to the Queen’s credit that she well understood that people who met her, especially for the first time, were extremely nervous. She had the most wonderful manner in asking one or two extremely gentle questions—even a Member of Parliament could not get them wrong—to settle nerves. That wonderful skill with people was but one of the reasons why her subjects loved her so much.
Secondly, each evening when the House is sitting, the Vice-Chamberlain’s duty is to compile the royal message: a one-page summary for the sovereign of what had taken place in Parliament, printed on special paper, to be collected by a royal courier at 6 pm precisely. All went well until one evening when, as the message was just about to be printed, there was a complete IT failure in the Whips Office, which led to a state of pandemonium. By about 6.30 pm, the royal courier, who was now drumming his fingers, looked at me and said mischievously, “You do realise, sir, that if it’s more than an hour late, you’ll have to go down there and apologise to her in person?” At that point, my blood run cold. Mercifully, the Lord was kind and, five minutes later, a scream of delight emanated from the Whips Office when Claire, the senior Whip’s assistant, emerged with a look of triumph and simply said, “We’ve fixed it.” When I wished the courier Godspeed, I meant it.
Thirdly, following a rather unfortunate misunderstanding with Charles I in the 17th century, on the day of the state opening the Vice-Chamberlain has to go to the palace to be held hostage, as surety for the monarch’s safe return. When I once asked what would happen if something went wrong, the royal courtier smiled and said, “Oh, they’ll probably just cut your head off.” That was vaguely in the back of my mind on both occasions when I performed the duty. On the first, unfortunately the Duke was unwell, but on the second he accompanied the Queen as they came down the steps. I was standing there, in morning dress and with my wand of office, when suddenly he walked up to me and said, “Who are you?” I was stunned, but before I could reply the Queen said, with slight exasperation, “He’s the hostage”, to which the Duke replied, “Oh, jolly good.” They got in the coach and went to Parliament. When they came back, I bowed my head as they passed and said, “Well done, Your Majesty.” The Duke turned on his heel, walked straight up to me and said, “I bet you’re bloody relieved to see us.”
On her 21st birthday, Princess Elizabeth famously proclaimed that
“my whole life, whether it be long or short, shall be devoted to your service”,
the service of her people. In modern parlance, she then did exactly what it said on the tin. My constituents in Rayleigh and Wickford and the whole country loved her for it. We have lost our Queen, but her legacy lives on. God save our King.
5.10 pm