If asked whether they’ve ever taken drugs, politicians might huff and puff but will rarely give a straight answer. Or even answer at all.

Which is why David Warburton’s confession was so unexpected.

It’s undeniable that he was in a difficult situation. A compromising photo had surfaced featuring the former Tory MP for Somerton and Frome—who recently passed away at the age of 59—seemingly pondering over an upturned baking tray with four lines of white powder.

So, did he actually use cocaine? It was June 2023, about 15 months since the picture was taken, and Mr. Warburton sat across from me, visibly uncomfortable, in a London hotel. The question lingered between us.

He glanced down at his suede shoes, shut his eyes, and tapped his fingernails rhythmically on his glass of non-alcoholic beer. Then he set his drink aside, bringing his hands together as if in prayer.

‘I mean, to be fair, I mean I’m not going to lie,’ he said. ‘By the end of the night, yeah.’

Forced to remain silent due to an inquiry, it was the first time he had addressed the question publicly.

He quickly offered an explanation. He blamed a large amount of potent Japanese whisky and his own foolishness. He mentioned he would resign the next day, which he did, although not due to the cocaine incident.

David Warburton’s family, friends, and former colleagues were deeply shocked by the former Tory MP’s unexpected passing at 59—he was reportedly happier than he had been in a long time and had ‘turned his life around’.

A compromising picture became public in 2022, showing the then Tory MP for Somerton and Frome seemingly considering an upturned baking tray with four lines of white powder.

The Mail On Sunday’s front page covering the allegations – with Warburton later admitting to a reporter that he had taken cocaine

He was sick of politics, he said, mainly because he claimed he’d been denied a fair hearing by a parliamentary watchdog investigating allegations that he made unwanted advances to two women – allegations that were eventually withdrawn.

And so off he went, his Westminster career over, his marriage not far behind it.

For the next two years he melted into relative obscurity.

And then we heard last week that paramedics found him in his London flat, his death ‘unexpected but not suspicious’ and thought to be connected to a recently diagnosed medical issue.

His family, friends and former colleagues were profoundly shocked. He had been happy, they said, or happier than he had been for some time, and had ‘turned his life around’.

In recent months, one friend said, he had loved nothing better than to sit with a drink on the balcony of his new flat in Chelsea Harbour overlooking the Thames, talking about his plans.

But much of the past two years had been a struggle, and others suggested that following his fall from grace he fell further still.

The Mail on Sunday has learned that at his lowest point the man once destined for ministerial office found himself temporarily homeless, reduced to sleeping in his BMW in a Tesco car park.

Warburton with then Prime Minister Lord David Cameron in 2022 – before the former was suspended from the party

Warburton with former Prime Minister Theresa May in 2017, five years before the allegations that ended his political career

Warburton with his wife, Harriet Baker-Bates. Their 22-year marriage ended after the scandal

‘He laughed about it later but it was tough at the time,’ said a former colleague. ‘He was sleeping in the car park for a month.’

It followed the end of his 22-year marriage to Harriet Baker-Bates, the daughter of a British diplomat. 

After their split he cared for his ailing mother, whose death last July hit him hard.

What happened after his homeless spell was typical of his rollercoaster life.

The colleague said: ‘He attended networking events and met an investor who was taken with David’s plans for an energy company. His life then took another 180-degree turn.’

Thus he became the chief executive of Capenex, a firm specialising in solar panels and carbon trading. At the time of his death, he was employing more than 30 staff with plans to hire 20 more.

‘It was just like David to bounce back spectacularly – to go from sleeping in a car park to living in a fancy riverside apartment and driving a £130,000 Porsche,’ said a friend. 

‘He was excited by his new role – he was doing something worthwhile.’

Unlike many of his colleagues, David Warburton (pictured) had lived a full life before entering politics

Back in 2015, when he was elected with the country’s biggest swing to the Tories, Mr Warburton had seemed just the kind of charismatic figure to inject the party with much-needed vigour.

Unlike many of his colleagues, he had lived a full life before entering politics. Expelled from grammar school for a series of minor misdeeds, including smoking behind a cricket pavilion, he went on to study composition at the Royal College of Music, sang in rock bands and worked as a nightclub bouncer.

Then he became a music teacher, later setting up a highly successful business providing downloadable pop songs which he sold to a Silicon Valley company in 2008.

‘He made other MPs – many who know only of politics and nothing else – seem bloodless in comparison,’ said a colleague.

Yet few could deny that Mr Warburton’s impulsive, often downright reckless streak made him ill-suited to Westminster.

Back in June 2023 he told me of its ‘many temptations’, adding: ‘There is a big drinking culture and I found myself being drawn to the bars while waiting for late-night votes. 

‘And there’s always some reception to go to with free food and drink. I put on eight stone and lost it again.’

Announcing his resignation in his 2023 interview with The Mail on Sunday, Mr Warburton said: ‘I won’t be part of an institution that accepts this insanity. Parliament needs to change. But it’ll be doing that without me. I’m moving on.’

Insiders said that Warburton’s impulsive, often downright reckless streak made him ill-suited to Westminster

In this post-MeToo landscape, he added, middle-aged male politicians simply did not stand a chance, even if complaints against them are demonstrably unfounded and motivated by spite.

But despite his claims of a ‘Kafkaesque witchhunt’, many will conclude that this was, foremost, an unsavoury affair. 

The cocaine admission also brought hypocrisy brickbats as he had publicly called for international action in ‘tackling the drugs trade’.

Ultimately, though, it was his involvement with young women working in and around Westminster that sank him, though he always vehemently denied the sexual misconduct allegations. 

Nevertheless, he conceded he was naive and incredibly stupid to have ever got so close.

A friend said: ‘Undoubtedly flawed, he was nonetheless a funny, fiercely intelligent, deeply caring man whose passing is incredibly sad.’