Last week, I gave a speech for Lent at the Friends Meeting House in Charlbury, as part of a series of talks put on by the local Churches. You can ready my speech below:
About 6 months after being elected, a colleague of mine called Kanishka Narayan, who is now a minister, but then was just a backbench MP for Glamorgan made himself busy by creating an app that converted MP’s speeches in Hansard, parliament’s record of debates, into a word cloud.
It may not surprise you to know that ‘Banbury’ was right at the centre of mine in very big letters.
I was born at the Horton Hospital and grew up in Banbury on the Hardwick estate.
And I am incredibly proud of the town.
However, I am very keenly aware that my constituency does not just cover that town but also Chipping Norton and Charlbury as well as numerous villages.
I always enjoy coming to Charlbury, whether its holding surgeries or speaking to residents on their doorsteps while canvassing.
So when about 6 months ago I was asked about giving this speech, I jumped at the chance.
But as it got closer and I had to decide what I was actually going to say, I must admit I got more nervous.
I haven’t given a non-political speech in 10 years since I was a best man.
What would I say?
So, I started writing it.
Then stopped.
Deleted everything and started again.
Then stopped, deleted and started again.
Rinse and repeat.
In the end, researching for this event, I just went back to my maiden speech hoping for some inspiration.
On 17 October 2024, just over 3 months after my election, I gave my maiden speech in a debate on international trade and investment.
In that speech I said that this was the “job I have always wanted.”
Now that I am 18 months in, you may wonder if that remains the case.
Politicians, especially from governing parties, are rarely popular.
And the comments you’ll read on my social media will certainly show that to be the case.
But I do stand by it.
I am not only immensely proud to be your Member of Parliament as it is a role with an inordinate amount of responsibility.
I enjoy it as well despite the challenges that come with it.
Above all else it is the opportunity to serve.
Because that was what was in my mind throughout those first few months as an MP, when delivering my maiden speech and still largely is today.
When the results of the 2024 General Election were confirmed, the Prime Minister Sir Keir Starmer stated that this would be a ‘government of service’.
He also said that “politics can be a force for good”.
People will make their own minds up about whether they agree with those statements.
But when people ask me why I chose to enter politics, I always feel that the honest answer is that it wasn’t what I wanted to do as a kid.
No, I wanted to be James Bond, or Liverpool’s no 9.
But I can’t act and I’m a better goalkeeper than a striker, though still not that good.
So that put paid to those dreams.
I had always been interested in politics and current affairs.
My Mum tells several stories about my time at school, many of which I would rather keep to myself.
But she tells me that I knew who the Home Secretary, Yasser Arafat and Saddam Hussain were when I was about 7 or 8.
While I was elected to parliament in 2024, it was not actually the first time that I had stood.
That was 2015, and I remember that when I was asked about being the potential Labour candidate, I said “no”.
I was a councillor and group leader on Cherwell, working a full-time job in social housing.
That felt like enough for me.
But they kept asking and I did change my mind.
And I suppose the rest is history.
Why politics though?
My father is a businessman and my mother although she works in care now, she was as housewife while I grew up.
I admire my dad greatly but I have never been entrepreneurial.
Risk is not something I associate myself with.
The primary school on the estate where I lived has improved significantly over the years, and only a few weeks ago received a letter from the Secretary of State for the work they do with disadvantaged children.
However, when I was growing up, it was not regarded as a good school.
My mother instead worked extremely hard to get me into a different one. I ended up at a village school.
Still a comprehensive but with considerably better outcomes.
Naturally the impact of this school on my life was enormous.
Like most village schools, this one was CofE.
Like all kids I would do a nativity play, dance around the maypole and take part in a harvest festival.
Perhaps unusually, however, almost all of the people who taught me ended up as members of the clergy once they left.
My brothers and sisters would pray together at home, whereas I would get a telling off for using words like ‘damn’ which I would pick up from watching films that I probably shouldn’t have seen.The stories of the bible, as well as of the legends of Ancient Greece, were what I read before bed.
As well as Rupert Bear and Asterix.
So, the Christian faith had a fundamental impact on my upbringing and therefore on my politics through the desire to serve.
Even though, and I will set this out here; I have not retained my faith.
I’ll set out something else from the start; any politician who says that they did not enter public life out of ambition or out of a desire for recognition is not being completely honest.
Every single one of us has that ego.
It is, though essential, often serving as our shield and our drive.
But aside from that ego and ambition I would say that I entered it because I am driven by three things.
From childhood, I was taught that faith is not proven by words but by actions.
The Christian tradition I grew up with didn’t express itself in grand gestures or public declarations.
It expressed itself in small acts of kindness, given quietly, without expectation of reward.
Over time, I came to understand that looking after the vulnerable is not an optional part of faith—it is the centre of it.
To me, that means:
· seeing dignity where others see difficulty
· offering compassion where others offer judgment
· recognising that none of us stands entirely on our own
Service became my way of honouring that foundation.
It became the place where faith turns into action.
I mention how the Christian faith had a formative influence on my life.
Another value that shaped me deeply was an instinctive belief in giving people the space to live their lives as they see fit.
This wasn’t something I learned in a textbook.
It was something I learned by watching the people around me—people who may have lived differently from one another, believed differently, voted differently, or loved differently, but who shared a simple mutual agreement: you have your life, I have mine, and there is room enough for both of us.
And it was this that made me question and then abandon my faith.
Over a decade ago, a new Vicar came to Banbury.
And he was exceptional.
He threw himself into everything.
His sermons were inspiring and he was well liked by most in the town.
He wasn’t perfect, he once was a Conservative candidate… but he was a brilliant cleric.
My wife and I became very fond of him.
Then one day he announced he was leaving.
“Why?” I asked.
Because he was told by one group of fellow Christians locally that he was not welcome because he had come out as gay.
I found this utterly intolerable.
Of course, I know that this is and has been a live and contentious issue in the church.
With myriad and diverse views.
And I am not here, or frankly equipped, to get into the theological or moral arguments.
But I simply could not reconcile how a religion of love could allow people to take such a stance.
I remember being asked about gay marriage at a hustings during the general election campaign in 2015.
And I stand by what I said then; that we need more love and that we should welcome gay marriage as an expression of it.
Because “Live and let live” isn’t indifference.
It is respect—respect for conscience, respect for individuality, respect for the paths people walk that we may never fully understand.
True freedom is not just the freedom to make your own choices, but the responsibility to allow others to make theirs.
That spirit of openness shaped my approach to service.
It taught me that diversity is not a challenge to be managed but a gift toIt taught me that diversity is not a challenge to be managed but a gift to be embraced.
I also think it is a profoundly British thing.
And, it may sound odd coming from a politician of the left, but I love my country.
Not loud nationalism.
Not bedecking lampposts with flags.
Not declaring love of country as loudly as possible.
Not pretending that our history is all good, or bad.
The riots in the summer of 2024 were incredibly disturbing.
And they didn’t come out of nowhere.
There are a lot of people who feel scared of what they see on their streets, or on the news.
Or they feel like their country has let them down by not giving them the opportunity to thrive.
I hear that and I accept it. However, I also know that we’ve seen this country at its best over recent years.
We’ve had the Platinum Jubilee when we all cried at the Queen and Paddington.
Street parties to celebrate VE day.
But we’ve also seen people opening their homes to those fleeing war in Ukraine.
We saw it during the pandemic, when everyone but particularly young people stayed at home, making huge sacrifices never asked of previous generations to keep other people safe.
This is a patriotism that believes love of country is best expressed not in words, but in service.
To me, being patriotic means:
· taking responsibility for the community we share
· protecting what is good, while improving what needs changing
· leaving something better for those who follow
It is the belief that a nation is not strengthened by noise, but by care.
And so service—humble, persistent, sometimes unseen—became my way of contributing to the country that shaped me.
When you put these three values together—care for the vulnerable, respect for individual freedom, and a quiet love of country—they pointed me unmistakably toward a life of public service.
For me, service is a calling.
A responsibility.
So when I am asked why I chose politics, the answer is simple:
It is a way of saying:
· “I see those who are struggling.”
· “I will defend your right to live your own life.”
· “I love this place enough to help improve it.”
Thank you for listening.
And thank you for everything you do—seen and unseen—to make our communities stronger, kinder, and more hopeful.
If you take nothing else away from this speech, I hope it is this:
I am in politics because I believe in the power of ordinary, everyday people to shape a better future.
I am here because my values call me to be useful.
And I am here because I care.
And thank you for allowing me the privilege of serving.