Obituary: Alan Watkins, Political commentator

ALAN Watkins was one of the longest serving and best-known faces in political journalism. He had the knack of capturing a moment in a phrase that often landed up in everyday use. Young fogey, Men in Suits and chattering classes were all his originally and summed up a slice of society: Watkins was never cynical but straight forward and balanced. He didn't much care for authority either in Fleet Street or Westminster, but preserved throughout his career an independence and distance from the mainstream of political thinking that made his articles invaluable.

Nothing typifies Watkins' ability as a wordsmith more than the last article he wrote after the party leaders' first television debate on 18 April. It concluded with the poignant concluding paragraph. "Mr Clegg is adept at the soft answer that turneth away wrath. He does not have anything to teach Mr Cameron; still less poor Mr Brown, who chews gum even when he does not have anything to chew." Agree or disagree, one has to admit it is a wonderful final paragraph to write.

Alan Rhun Watkins was born in the Carmarthenshire village of Tycroes, north of Swansea, the son of two teachers. He was educated at Tycroes Primary School and Amman Valley Grammar School and then, from 1951-55, read law at Queen's College, Cambridge. After national service in the education corps, he was called to the Bar. But Watkins was somewhat disenchanted with the law and instead got a job writing the influential Crossbencher column in the Sunday Express. It acted, for Watkins, as an ideal introduction to journalism.

In 1962, Watkins joined the Spectator, then under the imaginative editorship of the Scot Iain Macleod, who left Watkins with much freedom to write about his colleagues in the shadow cabinet. When another Tory grandee took over (Nigel Lawson), Watkins was no less cutting or controversial. As he said in a piece at the time: "My principal object was, as it remains, to have control of my copy."

Watkins also contributed regularly to the Observer, the New Statesman and then finally the Independent on Sunday.

In 1967, he published two secret documents (then known as D Notices), which under the rules of the time was forbidden. There was a scandal and at Lord Radcliffe's inquiry it was ruled that Watkins' decision to print was wrong. He remained unrepentant.

In 1988 Watkins was involved in a costly three-week case against the Observer by the Labour MP Michael Meacher, whom Watkins had accused of "embellishing his working-class credentials". Meacher lost and Watkins, who had spent three days in the witness box, wrote a book: A Slight Case of Libel (1990).

From 1967 to 1976, he wrote for the left-wing New Statesman, part of the time under the editorship of his brother-in-law, the distinguished political journalist Anthony Howard.

But Watkins always preserved his independence and never towed the party line or wrote what the spin-doctors were spinning. In 1969, he viewed Harold Wilson's "In Place of Strife" would not work, in 1975 he campaigned for a "No" vote on Europe and against the Iraq invasion of 2003.

But an equal passion was rugby and especially Welsh rugby. He was downhearted when the national team lost, but with his good humour and convivial nature Watkins would take solace in a glass.

He enjoyed a glass of champagne ("a little of the sparkling wine of north-east France, if I may" he would say at the bar), but he also enjoyed a good claret and Armagnac. Watkins had a habit of avoiding the press galleries in the Palace of Westminster and preferred to meet friends, MPs and colleagues in near-by bars

He had married Ruth Howard when they were both in their twenties. They divorced in 1974 and, sadly, in1982 she committed suicide. The following year their daughter Rachel did the same.

He continued to live with his son David (who survives him) in Islington and was as involved and as incisive about the politics of the past three months as ever.

Many tributes have been paid to Watkins' writing and political antennae – including one from George Brown.

But Lawson – who was his editor and knew his writing – commented: "Alan particularly liked delving into political plots and manoeuvrings, but he had what you'd call an affectionate cynicism; he was hard-headed and cynical about politicians' motives yet he loved politics and politicians, and he could write. As a man he was convivial, excellent company and very jolly."