I don’t have much time for politicians, if truth be told. I can’t be doing with the double-speak served up by so many of them and their simple inability to answer a direct question.
Indeed, I blame much of the public apathy towards politics in general on the mistrust so many feel towards those who seek public office.
The days of rotten boroughs may be long gone, but politics remains an inherently grimy business ruled by self-interest.
In recent years the ‘cash-for-questions’, ‘cash for honours’ and MPs’ expenses scandals have done little to enhance the reputation of political parties in the UK or those elected to serve.
That said, very occasionally individuals come along who seem to transcend party politics and go some way towards restoring one’s faith in the system.
Jack Ashley, or Lord Ashley of Stoke as he became, was just such a man.
Two years ago I had the privilege of welcoming Lord Ashley on to the stage at the King’s Hall as part of Stoke-on-Trent City Council’s Citizen Of The Century celebrations.
Jack, who died on Saturday, was 87 at the time, frail and in a wheelchair but determined to be part of an historic occasion where we marked the centenary of the federation of the Six Towns.
Unfortunately, fate conspired against us that night and the great charity champion and campaigner for the rights of the disabled was left stranded in the clunky old lift for a couple of minutes.
It ground to a halt as we attempted to bring Jack on stage to receive his civic honour.
It could have been a disaster. However, such was the calibre of the man that he laughed off the gremlins and received his award with sublime grace.
What’s more, it was at that moment that I realised just how the people of the Potteries had taken this bloke from Widnes to their hearts.
There was no way anyone was going to let a technical hitch spoil the moment.
Indeed, such was the warmth felt towards one of the great Parliamentarians from the 400-plus audience, that it took just a few additional rounds of applause and Jack was on stage with me.
The word ‘inspirational’ is greatly over-used these days but it is certainly appropriate in the case of Jack Ashley.
His life in public service is remarkable – not because of its longevity but because of what he accomplished during his time as an MP and in the House of Lords.
When an elder statesman such as Lord Ashley passes on we have come to expect tributes for their peers.
However, when David Cameron, Nick Clegg, Ed Milliband and Gordon Brown – to name but a few – spoke of the admiration for our Jack there is no doubt they meant it.
Lord Ashley of Stoke was a pioneer, you see. A man who, quite literally opened doors for millions of people.
Having won the Stoke-on-Trent South Parliamentary seat in 1966 he could quite easily have thrown in the towel two years later when he lost his hearing.
However, as this country’s first deaf MP, he learned to lip-read and was held in such high regard – even by political foes such as Prime Minister Ted Heath – that they turned towards him during Commons debates so he could get a clear view of their mouths.
Because of Jack Ashley, many people realised that a disability didn’t have to be a barrier.
Because of his sheer force of will others, like former Home Secretary David Blunkett, forged a career in politics in spite of a disability.
Jack Ashley was arguably the greatest champion disabled people in the UK have ever had.
He was a man driven not by self-interest but by the needs of others and someone who placed fairness at the heart of his own personal agenda.
During 26 years as a member of Parliament he campaigned tirelessly for society’s second class citizens – the under-represented and the victims of everything from thalidomide to the arthritis drug Opren.
Jack Ashley was someone who changed attitudes for the better and we should be grateful that a man elected first and foremost to serve the people of Stoke-on-Trent did that and so much more.
Forget statues to the man in charge of the Titanic. How about a permanent memorial to a man whose legacy is supremely positive for us all?
Read my Personally Speaking columns every Tuesday in The Sentinel