WHEN I first worked at the House of Commons for the Lancashire Telegraph, roly-poly Tory MP Geoffrey Dickens was a figure of fun.

Ever-ready with a colourful quote and a source of many humorous stories to be swapped in Westminster bars, he was often used to brighten up a story, but never taken seriously.

It is emerging from the growing furore over an alleged child abuse ring involving the rich and powerful that maybe we should have paid more attention to the MP for Littleborough and Saddleworth before his untimely death in May 1995.

Geoffrey once called a press conference to announce he was leaving his wife for a glamorous lady he met at a tea dance, then had to delay it to warn his long-suffering spouse.

The overweight MP once got stuck between two pit props in a colliery during a Commons select committee visit, requiring the mine rescue team to free him.

How we laughed.

We giggled even more when he told of a letter from a lady of somewhat equine features he met at a constituency function, thanking him for his courtesy.

Noting she had carefully added in brackets the word ‘horseface’ after her name, he duly wrote back to ‘Dear Horseface’.

The following day his secretary explained how she had added the unflattering description to the signature, leaving Mr Dickens spluttering and red-faced.

However fondly we remember his eccentricities, no one paid any attention to his dossier on well-connected paedophiles, possibly because of his later, unfounded, obsession with ‘Satanic’ child abuse.

We also ignored his warning, long before the internet, about the growing surveillance society, which allows the authorities to spy on citizens.

Now both issues are high on the political agenda.

We claim we want MPs to be colourful and speak out of turn rather than spout party slogans.

Yet when they get drunk, or leave their wives, we sniff at their human failings. When a minister says something different from their leader, we talk of ‘gaffes’ and ‘splits’ We can’t have it both ways.

If we want real people running the country, we must accept a bumpy ride.

We also ought to listen to the odd and slightly clownish MPs we love to ridicule.

Because, like Geoffrey, they just might be on to something important.