The letter of Enoch Powell reminded me of a time in the 1960s when the Communist Party in Wolverhampton was championing a group of Asian residents who were having trouble finding housing. At a meeting, via a microphone and with the aid of a translator, they confronted Powell, their MP. He listened patiently, then strolled over and in perfect Urdu began to talk to them. I still remember the transformation. All smiles, they crowded around him, and the meeting sponsors faded away.