A conspicuous blue plaque on the wall of an unassuming property in Newport reads as follows: 'Mohammad Asghar, born 30 September 1945, Member of Welsh Assembly, accountant and pilot, resides since 1994.' And those who have visited the Asghar family home would soon find that Oscar was all of those things described on that plaque but also a whole lot more.

He was a devoted husband to Firdaus, and a loving father to his daughter, Natasha, both of whom he loved dearly and spoke of so very, very often. He was a man of great faith, generosity and integrity. And he was, if it's possible to be this, a perfect embodiment of the Commonwealth. He was the most loyal subject Her Majesty the Queen could ever have hoped for.

'Mr Asghar' to some, 'Oscar' or 'Uncle Oscar' to others, and to me a true friend and a precious colleague. From the moment that we enjoyed our first curry together during discussions about his joining the Welsh Conservatives, we hit it off and over the 13 years that I knew Oscar, we never had a cross word, which, as those of you who know me will testify, is quite an achievement. We enjoyed many a heart to heart on matters of faith, family and politics. We travelled together, we shared meals together and we laughed a lot together.

As is the case for other Members of this Parliament, some of my fondest memories of Oscar were during the Welsh Conservatives' visit to the Holy Land. There was no greater supporter of Israel and an advocate of peace in the middle east than Oscar. While we were both from different faith traditions, Oscar and I prayed together for the peace of Jerusalem at the Western Wall and we also prayed for one another's families as we sat, arm in arm and with tears in our eyes, in St Peter's Church, set amongst the ruins of the biblical town of Capernaum, on the shores of Lake Galilee.

During that trip, we also visited the modern Palestinian town of Rawabi, the brainchild of the famous Palestinian entrepreneur Bashar Masri. The group had arranged to meet Bashar in a posh cafe, and the meeting was chaired by Oscar. He did an excellent job, it all went incredibly well, and after the meeting, we all strolled back to the minibus, which was waiting to whisk us on to our next appointment. But, just as we were about to leave, we noticed that someone was missing. And after a roll call, we realised that it was, as is often the case, Mark Isherwood. Oscar looked at me with a hint of concern on his face, 'Where is he?', he asked. I responded, 'He's probably explaining the intricacies of the Barnett formula and the fiscal framework for Wales to the Arabic waiter, Oscar.' At which, Oscar fell about in uncontrollable laughter to the extent that he looked like a laughing policeman on the promenade in a Welsh seaside resort. 

His laughter, of course, was infectious and by the time that Mark Isherwood finally arrived at the minibus, we were all wiping the tears from our eyes. And that's the Mohammad Asghar, that's the Oscar, that's the friend and colleague who I will always remember. So, colleagues, that blue plaque on that little house in Newport doesn't do the Oscar that we all knew any justice at all. Let's hope that, at a future date, there will be some more suitable, permanent reminder in a prominent public place of this great man and the enormous contribution that he's made to Welsh public life.