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in my constituency was shot dead while pursuing a criminal whose income is derived solely from supplying cocaine to otherwise entirely law-abiding people. If those people were able to get their cocaine at the off licence, properly licensed, taxed and restricted to adults, then the man who killed that officer would have to find some other means of making a living and there would be one less police widow! And it is not only the police who walk in fear in our increasingly violent society! We all do! In some communities people count each day a lucky one if their homes are not broken into and their persons not assaulted by depraved junkies desperate to finance their terrible craving. We all know that the vast majority of muggings and burglaries are drug-fuelled! Why should we have to suffer for other people’s addictions? Let me ask you this, let me put the unashamedly selfish argument for legalization: would you honestly care if the number of addicts in this country doubled, even trebled, if it meant that your home was no longer in danger of being broken into and your children were free from the fear of being mugged for their pocket money and mobile phones?’
    For a moment the uproar died. This was an interesting point.
    ‘As a matter of fact, I’m not at all convinced that the number of addicts would rise dramatically anyway. Experiments in Holland suggest that they would not, but I put it to you again, even if they did would you really care as long as they were properly housed, properly looked after and above all not stealing your VCR?’

THE HOUSE OF COMMONS LOBBY, WESTMINSTER
    P eter Paget’s parliamentary assistant felt her heart pounding with excitement. She could hear the roars from inside the debating chamber and knew that her employer was truly in the lion’s den. Samantha had been with Peter for almost four months and had shared with him the build-up to this moment. She felt that it was almost as much her day as his. Unable to stand the tension any longer, she phoned her mother on her mobile phone.
    ‘He’s in there now, Mum. It sounds like they’re tearing him apart.’
    Forewarned by her daughter, Samantha’s mother had been watching the debate on the Parliament Channel and assured Samantha that Peter was acquitting himself splendidly.
    ‘Oh, he’s so wonderful, Mum. He went through the speech with me this morning, sitting on a bench in Parliament Square. It’s incredible, his passion, his commitment, the things he believes. He’s the only real man in that bloody place. The Prime Minister’s just a moron compared to him. Oh, Mum, I wish you’d seen us out there working together, right in the shadow of Parliament. I felt so proud that he chose me to try out his lines on. He even took a couple of my suggestions! I know! He’s got this bit about the Union Jack draped on a police coffin and as he was talking I looked up and saw the flag that flies above the house and it seemed like providence, so I said that he should draw a comparison between the two flags. He said it was a brilliant idea and promised to use it! He did? Oh, that’s amazing! But it’s all him, of course, I mean it’s him that makes it work. He’s just brilliant, that’s all. He claims his wife helps him with his stuff, but I doubt it, I mean, come on, as if. What would she know? She’s just a boring little mouse. Although I do think it’s sweet of him to be so supportive of her. Honestly, Mum, it was just so exciting going through it all with him…with Big Ben looking down on us and the sunshine on the roof of Westminster Abbey, so romantic…And then when he got up to go in he said ‘Wish me luck’ and I did and then he kissed me! In public! He’s never done that before…I’m not being silly. I just think it’s a sign, that’s all.’

THE HOUSE OF COMMONS, WESTMINSTER
    I nside the debating chamber the object of this girlish affection was hot. Peter wanted to remove his jacket, but he knew that there would be dark rings of