The tribute made by Kieran Mullan, the Conservative MP for Crewe and Nantwich, in the House of Commons on 10 September 2022.
It is a privilege for me to pay tribute to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II today on behalf of the people of Crewe and Nantwich and surrounding villages. I did not have the honour of meeting the Queen, but in a testament to her decades of service and the diligent attention she paid to every corner of her realm, Her Majesty visited the area numerous times. In 1972, she opened Leighton Hospital. In 1987, she opened Crewe Heritage Centre and visited Crewe Works. In 1995, she was greeted by 200 south-west Cheshire scouts at Crewe train station, and in 2010, she visited Reaseheath College in Nantwich.
As others have said, a visit by the Queen—the handshakes, the conversations, even just distant glimpses—stay in people’s memories. Leighton Hospital’s longest-serving member of staff, Phil Malam, now aged 69, talked about the visit as part of the hospital’s recent 50th anniversary celebrations. The visit took place just a few days after the then 19-year-old began working as a hospital porter. He wrote:
“It was a very special day…I remember we lined the corridor and the Queen spoke to quite a few of us as she walked past. She was really interested in what we did and thanked us—a lovely lady.”
That is absolutely typical of how people describe interactions with the Queen: “She was really interested in what we did and thanked us.” Over 70 years, I cannot even begin to imagine the number of conversations, handshakes, school and hospital openings, state occasions, visits by dignitaries and tours abroad—70 years of unwavering service to this country and her people, always interested, always smiling, always polite. In the age of celebrity, where to be famous is to be of interest to others, the most famous woman in the world was more interested in others. What drove her was a sense of duty and, as others have said, her wish to keep that promise that she made at just 21: to devote her life to our service. It was a promise solemnly made, and solemnly kept.
Why does that stir such strong sentiment in us? I think it is because we know our failings as humans are often rooted in self-interest of one kind or another: our desire to be important or admired, to achieve things, to be celebrated, to think mostly of ourselves and our family and friends. When someone extends the bonds of service to an entire nation, as the Queen did, to people she would never meet or know—when we see someone embodying the best of what it means to be human, the opposite of self-interest—that inspires us. It gives us a glimpse of what we are all capable of. That is why I admired the Queen.
But, as she embodied us, the millions who undertake acts of community and voluntary service embody her as well. The scout leader, the children’s Sunday league football coach, the parkrun or marathon steward, the parish councillor, the Samaritans helpline volunteer, and the litter-pick group member all follow her example. Now I look at that final picture of her taken this week, and in retrospect, I think there was a deeper meaning to that final act of service than I realised at the time. Right at the end of her life, when perhaps for the rest of us our own comfort would come first, Her Majesty was once again absolutely determined to put her promise to us first—one last desire to help her people and her Prime Minister, entering another period of difficulty and uncertainty, to take that first step towards it with her yet again at our side. Now, rest in peace, Your Majesty. God save the King.
