Mid-Bedfordshire is a safe Conservative seat. Barring some disaster, an MP can expect to occupy such a berth for their entire career. Until yesterday, Nadine Dorries had that chance. And yet she decided to fly to Australia instead, to appear on the reality TV show I'm a Celebrity … Get Me Out of Here.

When I resigned as an MP, it was because I could not make family life work with my husband on another continent. We were also told that children adjust more easily the earlier they move. I would infinitely have preferred to have seen out my term, but it was not to be; and that it is something I will regret for the rest of my life. But not in a million years would I have agreed to go on a reality TV show.

Upon hearing the news, Tory MPs on Twitter were unusually frank. MPs Andrew Griffiths, Sarah Wollaston, Claire Perry and Michael Fabricant all went on the record. "I'm not fit to be an MP – kick me out of here," said Perry. "She has let down her colleagues," said Fabricant. "#betteroffout," said Griffiths, perhaps presciently employing the Ukip hashtag.

Commentators were quick to underline the fact that Dorries's constituents would go unrepresented for a month, and what a scandal that was. It isn't quite that simple. Gordon Brown is rarely in the Commons, yet he does not get lambasted for it (much). More to the point is the demeaning of the role of an MP, as well as the secrecy that surrounded her decision (it would appear from an interview with the chairman of the Mid-Bedfordshire Conservative Association that Dorries had not spoken to him at all; the whips were similarly kept in the dark). She made her choice, preferring the cameras to weeks of parliamentary votes, skipping out on the autumn statement – a crucial piece of government business – in the process.

As a seasoned media performer, Dorries knows how to work a message. She must have had some idea how unpopular this move would be. The TV show gig is paid – £40,000 in her case – and perks such as, say, a business-class flight to Australia would all have to be declared in the register of members' interests. So to justify her choice, she fell back on a populist argument: "I'm doing the show because 16million people watch it," she said. "If people are watching I'm a Celebrity, that is where MPs should be going." She added that she was also doing it to raise awareness of her pro-life views.

It is true that more people watch I'm a Celebrity than PMQs. But they also expect their politicians to do more than appear on gameshows. Eating grubs and performing humiliating tasks on air are not consistent with being an MP – unless you're retired, or desperate. But no matter: on Monday, Dorries was talking to the Mirror about packing her bikini. The Conservatives acted with appropriate speed in suspending the whip, pending an "interview without coffee" with the chief whip. I was rather surprised that the whip was not simply withdrawn.

Speaking as a moderate pro-lifer myself, it was the shabby excuse of using the platform to highlight her views on abortion that was the worst thing of all. If it's about "life", then donate the £40,000 to adoption charities. Nadine never forgave me for trying to introduce a moderate, alternative amendment to her own on counselling, which would have meant abortion providers were banned from offering counselling to women undecided as to their choice. I sought to introduce an amendment protecting those providers but adding independent counselling, principally on the NHS, as an alternative. Dorries never understood that in a pro-choice country, pro-life goals can only be achieved in pro-choice ways. She failed, and the movement will make no gains whatsoever while she is allowed to remain its spokeswoman.

From the safety of her seat, Dorries was always criticising the party leadership and other MPs. Just before crucial local elections, she said David Cameron and George Osborne were "two arrogant posh boys who show no remorse, no contrition, and no passion to want to understand the lives of others – and that is their real crime". This was a breathtaking way to talk about our prime minister, who has lived with tragedy and suffering that she cannot begin to imagine. You might dislike the prime minister's policies – and that's fine – but he and the chancellor are two very likeable and good men, as well as politicians that care deeply about others, and their colleagues know it. Her outburst led the news for days, after which many hardworking Tory councillors in marginal seats lost the wards they had worked for.

Dorries also said of the non-elected (and hence non-responsible to anybody) Speaker's wife, Sally Bercow, that she had made her husband and his office a "laughing stock" after a frank interview by Bercow with the London Evening Standard. And so forth, and so on. This does not engender loyalty in return.

There is, however, one positive thing about the whole affair. In the future, we will see fewer politicians thinking of George Galloway – or Dorries-esque ways to boost their "profile". Celebrity is fleeting; laws actually matter. I envy and honour my former colleagues, on all sides, who are still making them.