Home Secretary Shabana Mahmood took an hour of Commons questions about Ann Widdecombe's murder. All I could feel was a hollowing sorrow.

Maybe it's an end-of-summer-term thing and all this hot weather. Maybe it's because I am getting older and milkier.

Jo Cox, Sir David Amess, now Ann: from my crow's nest in the gallery I gawp down at these sailors on deck and wonder, horribly, who'll be next.

'May she now rest in eternal peace,' said Ms Mahmood.

From a party often antipathetic to religion, it was a welcome touch. The unexpected reference to Higher Authority, spoken softly at the end of her opening remarks, pricked my eyes a little.

Likewise, Florence Eshalomi (Lab, Vauxhall), churchgoer: 'May her gentle soul rest in peace.' A Labour colleague chuckled at this, the idea of Ann as 'gentle' perhaps being laughable to strangers. But she could be. She could.

Her death elicited anguish, affection and some humour. Robert Jenrick (Ref, Newark) recalled that on his first day as an MP, then the youngest in the House, Ann peered at him and asked, 'Are you here on work experience?'

Richard Tice (Ref, Boston) confessed that although she was a foot shorter than him, he always found himself looking up to her. When she telephoned, he would leap to his feet. She liked a dram, too. Mr Tice proposed a limited edition Widders' Whisky, fiery on the tongue, 'a blend to be treasured to eternity'.

As these and other pieces were being said, half-remembered images and sounds flitted across my brow: Ann's teetering waddle, that Margaret Rutherford bust, her scarlet-varnished forefinger raised mid-oratory.

And the voice. It pinked like a Hillman on bad petrol. Not so much a woman's larynx as the squawk of a disturbed pheasant, a stick being rattled inside a metal watering can.

She did not just roll her Rs – she played skiffle washboard with them.

In the hunting ban debate years ago she defended foxes from the Tory benches. On all sides sat colleagues, steaming with anger yet powerless in the theatre of the moment.

And then a moment of despair on election night 2017.

We were in a TV studio. After it became clear Theresa May had thrown away her power, London Lefties all around us were crowing about the result.

Ann grabbed hold of me. I felt like a rubber ring in a shipwreck. Such a squeeze. Then off she marched to do battle on air. Responding to her murder, MPs criticised social media for being engines of hatred.

Lee Anderson (Ref, Ashfield) said it was not as simple as that. Sometimes the venom was produced by parliamentarians.

Mr Anderson noted that members of the current Commons had denounced Reform MPs as 'racists, Nazis, bigots'. What did that do for the political climate? Ms Mahmood said 'we should show our best selves'.

Mr Jenrick suggested that it had been 'unwise' of the Home Office to downgrade security for Nigel Farage.

'Many will conclude, perhaps unfairly, that it was only because of his political views,' added Mr Jenrick. Ms Mahmood insisted that the decision was an independent one.

By the way, MPs on all sides defended Speaker Hoyle from accusations, by that little charmer Zia Yusuf, that he has somehow been negligent about MPs' safety.

Any danger of the session turning too purple was saved by Sir Iain Duncan Smith (Con, Chingford), recalling that in her days as one of John Major's ministers, Miss Widdecombe was an indignant defender of the pro-EU Maastricht treaty. Yet later she joined Reform!

Lucy Powell, reportedly soon to become deputy PM, insisted she had always 'admired and respected' Ann. She concluded: 'We don't make them like that any more.'

If that is true, the reason is that politicians have had the verve knocked out of them, not by any fear of violence on their own part as by party managers' terror of difference.

The gloopy, risk-aversion brigade has been as bad for parliamentary democracy as any mad attacker.