The demise of Lord Kelvedon brings to a close not just an extraordinary Southend saga, but also an epoch of British political history.

As Paul Channon MP, he was possibly the last of the great Parliamentary grandees, a man who inherited fabulous personal wealth, who never needed to seek a job or profession, and never had to prove himself.

He expected to, and did, acquire a seat in Parliament as casually as an ordinary person might walk into a supermarket. England was once run by figures like Paul Channon.

Along with his wealth, Paul Channon inherited impeccable breeding, effortless charm and a courtesy that was never, ever ruffled.

The turmoil of politics in the Thatcher era sometimes left him looking perplexed, but not, of course, ruffled.

Paul Channon was the fourth member of his family to represent Southend in Parliament, in an unbroken line that stretched back to 1912.

No other constituency in this day and age has become a family fiefdom in such a way, yet Southend happily went on voting for the Channons.

His latter years were a reminder material good fortune cannot keep the unkindness of fate at bay.

The death of his daughter, Olivia, at the age of 22 overshadowed everything in his life. His summary removal from ministerial office in 1993 saw the end of his political dreams.

Yet memories of his kindness and courtesy linger. In politics, and elsewhere, these are increasingly rare qualities, and good reason to mourn the passing of Paul Channon.