But much like the office of our shadowy Blairite overlords in Progress, it is also, occasionally, a reasonably pleasant place to be. The forthcoming wedding of Ed and Justine brought out the best in the political class, and ensured that for a whole one-thirtieth of PMQs the nation was treated to the strange verbal ballet of two faintly awkward middle-class men exchanging bashful half-jokes about each other‘s weddings.
Within seconds, but not a moment too soon, the courtship dance was over. The leader of the opposition asked some testy questions about tuition fees (going up) police numbers (going down) and, as ever, the prime minister didn’t inconvenience the House with much in the way of answers. It was dull, over in a flash, and nobody had won convincingly. Backbenchers started mumbling, and I was tempted to return to the august pages of the Free Press, but before long, East Anglian Tory Peter Aldous had caught my ear.
Summoning the diction but not the stature of the peerless Sir Peter Tapsell, he asked politely for an enterprise zone for the town of Great Yarmouth. The prime minister promised that his chancellor might grant his wish, but only as he’d asked so nicely. Sir George Young nodded his wise and ancient head approvingly; he knows that if those naughty children in UK Uncut would stop occupying the Queen’s favourite marmalade and take a leaf out of Mr Aldous’ book of parliamentary good manners, their commune in Hampstead Garden Suburb would be an enterprise zone already!
By the time Joan Walley had got to her feet to ask a very interesting question about the north Staffordshire chamber of commerce, the minds of less attentive members were beginning to drift away from politics and onto lunch. It had been a rather ordinary session – David Cameron had been pleasantly non-committal to those MPs who’d posed him easy questions, had made convivial small talk with Ed Miliband before reminding the House that he was a political lightweight and wrong about everything, and spooned us a few quips about the TUC march just lukewarm enough to make the evening bulletins.
Then, something interesting happened. Midway through his answer to Ms Walley, the prime minister of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, First Lord of the Treasury and minister for the civil service, broke off the platitudes, fixed Ed Balls with a death-stare and subjected him to a very public and unparliamentarily bollocking.
It was unedifying stuff. Some people may share the prime minister’s analysis that the shadow chancellor is the ‘most annoying man in modern politics’ and should just ‘shut up’ (perhaps you do too, Darling) but shouting it across the dispatch box was beneath him. Exhilarating, satisfying and funny, but beneath him.
I’d wager that the viewing public prefer the charm, while his backbenchers prefer the prime minister to be offensive. He should decide which one he wants to be – trying to be both at the same time rarely achieves either.