“Oi! Are you that Tory bloke Penrose?”  It was every politician’s nightmare. I was walking down a street in London and suddenly a bright red sports car had pulled up alongside. The man sitting inside knew me, but I hadn’t a clue who he was.

“Er yes. Can I help you?”

“I thought it was. I remember you from Sefton Park.”

And then I recognised him. When I last saw Tony (not his real name) he was in the first week of a drugs treatment programme in one of Weston’s best registered rehabs. He’d been in a terrible mess. He’d lost his job, he missed his wife and child, he was permanently on the verge of tears and he didn’t know where to turn.

But now, sitting in his open-topped MG on a sunny day in London, he was a changed man. He was cheerful, confident and obviously healthy. He was back with his family, he’d got a job as a chef in a London restaurant, and he hadn’t touched drink or drugs for months.

The contrast was amazing, and I realised that I’d bumped into one of Weston’s success stories. Here, standing on the pavement in London in front of me and chatting non-stop, was living proof that the system can work. If all the drug addicts in Weston’s rehabs turned out like Tony, there’d be no problem.

That means we need more of Weston’s rehabs to meet top-class standards, and to close the rest. It’s better for addicts, because they have a better chance of beating their habit. And it’s better for local people, because more addicts will leave town after completing their treatment instead of relapsing and staying in Weston.

I waved Tony goodbye and walked on, grinning. I’d seen the future of Weston. And it works.