It’s Thursday night and I’ve just put the girls to bed. We’re living rough for a few days; it’s

half term so I can’t let them enjoy it too much.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, I’m putting them through an EU referendum debate on Sky.

The PM is on; my seven-year-old remembers him.

We were in a cow shed in Cornwall. It’s the closest I got to a Conservative Party visit during

the General Election campaign. They’d made it clear they were not going to spend even so

much as a single postage stamp in Plymouth for me. The PM was within 50 miles, and I

wanted a picture with him.

I rated him. I had met him previously in my role as part of a team that was conducting the

UK’s tier one man-hunting operations in Afghanistan. He spent more time with the

operators rather than the officer’s waffling on. He got it; he got the personal sacrifice; he

got the fight. He was in stark contrast to the previous visitor, who had asked us to end our

presentation early, because he didn’t want to see the footage of guys on target. Political

visitors were not something we relished. But the blokes liked ‘Dave’.

Those same blokes I see now, along with all the others. Placing more emphasis on my

previous friendships, and on the doors in Plymouth, is what helps me keep my head in the

sometimes infuriating and currently very toxic and unpleasant atmosphere of SW1. One was

round my house last Sunday for lunch with his wife. We talked about his work. Then he

asked about mine. “What the hell is going on in Westminster? It’s embarrassing.”

He was right. It was embarrassing. Embarrassing for us as a Government; as a Party; as a

Country on the world stage. Embarrassing personally as well, having left behind a job I

adored; by no means perfect – steeped in loyalty, service, sacrifice; integrity, humility.

This debate has demeaned all of us and I am sorry to see it.

Perhaps it’s “the success” of the last General Election. Despite record low unemployment –

the single biggest factor in affecting life chances and deprivation; despite an opposition of

poor quality; despite turning around the worst recession for a generation; despite some

genuinely brilliant candidates; we achieved a slim – and as it is now turning out – an almost

unworkable majority in the House of Commons. Our ambitions went so far as to speak less

of this stuff, and more of Ed Miliband propped up by the SNP.

I couldn’t do it in Plymouth. I made a point of almost never mentioning the opposition. I had

a vision, and I was going to bloody well sell it. This would be a referendum in whether or not

I could do it. I was – bold as it was – almost trying to inspire people to come out and vote. I

had to. I had no other option if I was going to win my seat.

I used the Conservative message. I believed in it. The single biggest factor, the single biggest

driver in improving your life chances, in battling extreme deprivation; in improving the lives

of our most vulnerable – is having a job. Under this Government in Plymouth it was down

48%. Stunning.

But we are there again. Scare-based politics. “Because it works Johnny; it’s not pretty but it

will get us over the line.”

No thanks. I don’t want to just ‘get over the line’. I’m in this because I believe in it. I believe

in the Conservative vision for Plymouth, for the Country. I believe in transforming the lives

of some of the most deprived wards in Plymouth. I’m in it because most people end up in

bad positions because of circumstances outside of their control, perhaps a bit of bad luck, a

couple of bad decisions, and that could be any one of us. I’m in it because I believe we do

‘bombs and bullets’ reasonably well in this country, but when it comes to using that force;

when it comes to looking after people and cashing the cheque that these guys have

sacrificed so much for, most just don’t ‘get it’.

And if people don’t vote for that I’m disappointed, but that’s democracy and I’m big enough

and ugly enough to take the result. But I’m not going to start telling them that other options

available are frauds. It demeans me; it dis-respects them, and it treats people like they are

stupid.

Here’s the truth: The world ain’t gonna end, no matter which way the EU vote goes. It will

still rain most of the summer, England will go out of the Euros at the first opportunity, and I

will still be droning on about veteran’s care from the back benches.

Should we leave the EU? It’s not perfect – picking holes in it is like shooting fish in a barrel.

But do we seriously think that the most vulnerable in our communities; those who’s lifelines

are their jobs; those who regularly use the NHS; those who rely on funding for our public

services – do we really think these people could tolerate the financial shock of leaving the

EU? Of course not. Do we really think in a world that is only getting more dangerous, more

complex, we are better off alone, or as part of a team heading in generally the same

direction? Obama, Cameron, Osborne, Petraeus, Carney, Merkel, Clinton, Rajoy, Hollande,

Trudeau, Lagarde, Branson. Do we really ignore all these opinions?

There’s something deeply pathetic about Nigel Farage appearing on a beach the morning

after some poor migrants have been rescued, and then running through a market in Kent

shouting ‘let’s take back control!’

From who, Nigel? What am I missing?

I get the sovereignty stuff. I get the fact that we get over-ruled from Brussels every now and

then, and I don’t like it. But we are in control. We are a controlling member in a team. We

have specific exemptions around things we don’t like – the Euro; ever closer union,

protection of the pound. Britain has a veto on new member states joining the EU, as does

every other current member state. Talk of a European army? Britain again has a veto. Yes –

there is a real challenge around migration in the modern, more connected world we live in.

A huge challenge. We should not have promised anything on it. But a reason to leave the

EU? Give me a break.

the debate I’m watching with the kids, Faisal Islam tries to pigeon hole Cameron’s legacy as

Prime Minister. “You’re just going to be the guy that got in on fear campaigns”. It stung. And

it stung me too. Because partly it’s true, and it obscures the significant and life changing

successes of his premiership.

The British people – what this is actually all about – are not getting the truth. This isn’t a

leadership debate. It’s not a personality contest. This isn’t a fear campaign. This is simply an

opportunity to either re-affirm our current position and trajectory or move into the

unknown. If you want to move into the unknown – go for it. It is your right and I respect

that. But I’m not coming.

And please don’t give me this rubbish about being a true patriot and ‘believing in Britain’

just because you want to leave the EU. Am I not because I don’t? I’m proud of our Country.

We have huge challenges, but the truth is stronger than the rhetoric. More people lifted out

of poverty; social mobility increased; more funding for public services; greater life

expectancy and public health; better security services; better at looking after people; better

at anti-discrimination; fairer society. Fast enough? No. Agree with everything? No. Want to

chuck it all away on an unsubstantiated and unproven course of action? No thanks.

Finally, on the leadership. A journalist phoned me recently and asked me after the last

budget whether or not I still had any faith in George Osborne as Chancellor.

I asked him if this was the same Chancellor who in his role had lifted millions from poverty;

had created millions of jobs; had withstood personal vilification to bring the country out of

the deepest recession for a hundred years; who had directed millions of pounds LIBOR funds

at military causes; who had finally committed to parity of esteem on mental and physical

health in his budget; who had pumped millions into fixing the railway track that connects

my city to London whilst asking for a plan that he could fund for future resilience; who had

personally committed to sorting out Plymouth’s airport; who stands ready to listen to the

concerns of a first-term backbencher worried about the impact of a policy on his

constituents.

He asked me to stop. I asked him to stop taking the mick.