You can’t please all of the people any of the time. But a core part of my job is ensuring that I don’t consistently displease a majority of them. Last week a radio show had a phone-in asking listeners to debate whether I’m a racist. I thought about calling in as Margaret from Fareham, to suggest the Home Secretary take courage from another Margaret’s words: ‘I always cheer up immensely if an attack is particularly wounding because I think, well, if they attack one personally, it means they have not a single political argument left.’

The pursuit of truth is a good lodestar for the right policies. If we are to address the injustice of the grooming gangs scandal we must be willing to acknowledge the role that ethnicity played in covering it up. To say the overwhelming majority of perpetrators in towns such as Rotherham, Telford, and Rochdale were British-Pakistani and that their victims were white girls is not to say that most British-Pakistanis are perpetrators of sexual abuse. The former is a truth, one that made authorities reluctant to confront the issue. The latter is a lie, the speaking of which would be a disgraceful prejudice. I know that my motives will be questioned – such is a politician’s lot. But there are lines that we must not cross. If everything is racist, nothing is. Casually accusing me of racism for speaking plain truths distorts the meaning of the term, and does a great disservice to all of us working to combat racism.

Likewise, Labour’s claim that Rishi Sunak doesn’t want adults who sexually abuse children to go to prison was such an outrageous fiction that it is frankly laughable. It contrasts with the objective fact that Keir Starmer, and more than a third of the entire parliamentary Labour party, signed letters calling for planeloads of foreign criminals – including rapists and people who went on to commit further crimes – not to be deported. If Keir Starmer now thinks sentencing guidelines are too lenient, he should speak to the Keir Starmer who sat on the sentencing council as director of public prosecutions.

There is something peculiar about this political moment, where those of us advancing unfashionable facts are beaten over the head with fashionable fictions. I suppose the ethnicity of grooming gang perpetrators in a string of cases is the sort of fact that has simply become unfashionable in some quarters. Like the fact that 100 per cent of women do not have a penis.

As well as being a mother and a minister, I am also of course an MP. I was relieved and honoured to be adopted as the Conservative candidate for the new constituency of Fareham and Waterlooville after what the papers dubbed the Battle of Waterlooville. This harked back to the Duke of Wellington’s victory over Napoleon, which gave the town its name. Local members are still the lifeblood of our party and it’s important they have the chance to choose their local MP. But blue-on-blue contests are always painful, and we have had a few in recent years. Ronald Reagan opined that fellow conservatives should never speak ill of each other. I admired him immensely, but I do feel bound to point out that he challenged Gerald Ford, a sitting president, in the Republican primaries in the 1970s. I gather that my opposite number Yvette Cooper is having some red-on-red trouble with colleagues briefing against her. She’s not alone. Chin up, Yvette.

Harold Macmillan said that he liked to go to bed with a good Trollope. Margaret Thatcher couldn’t tell if he was joking. I believe her confusion stemmed not from any double entendre, but rather incredulity that a cabinet minister had time to read anything that didn’t come in a red box. I can empathise with this sentiment. The job of Home Secretary is an immense and unrelenting responsibility. I spent much of my Easter Sunday working on the Illegal Migration Bill and signing urgent warrants. But I do try to snatch chances to wind down. I will argue passionately that Curb Your Enthusiasm is a great work of art – and woe betide anyone who tries to cancel it.

I’m the daughter of a Kenyan Catholic father and a Mauritian Hindu mother, and I have a Jewish husband who was born in South Africa. So this time of year often means plenty of Easter, a healthy portion of Passover and loads of chocolate. A highlight was a trip with my husband Rael and two young children to a working farm where we fed a lot of goats, cows and pigs. I hope Spectator readers will give me credit for not ending with a hackneyed joke about this being a familiar environment for a parliamentarian.