The House of Commons was heaving for Transport Questions as MPs lined up to associate themselves with the repair of the lifts at railway stations in their constituency. On such issues are paper-thin majorities maintained. Where the British public is less prepared to give electoral credit is in the defence of Europe from Russian expansionism. Just ask Boris Johnson about that. Correspondingly, as an urgent question about the Ukraine war began, we saw a great emptying of the green benches, especially on the Labour side, as MPs went to iron their lanyards or something.
Answering for the Government was Maria Eagle. Ms Eagle is an accomplished parliamentarian but seems an unlikely choice for defence. She has the appearance and general zeal of Mole from the Wind in the Willows. Pugilistic she ain’t. Still, this wasn’t really about the war itself but about spreadsheets. Mole was on surer ground here. Specifically, the Tories wanted assurances that, given the peril of the European situation, the defence budget would not be next for the Playmobil Chancellor’s great swingeing axe.
Of course the elephant in the room – or rather, not in the room but in the White House – was The Donald. Mr Trump’s phone calls with Vladimir Putin have understandably made Ukraine nervous. Yet they’ve made the Lib Dems absolutely giddy. Clearly hoping to appeal even more to the smug dinner party constituency, the Lib Dems have made performative horror about The Donald a benchmark of their questioning in recent weeks.
It’s symbolic of the cancerous America-brain afflicting the UK chattering class. I sincerely doubt anyone facing the gutting of their town centre or languishing on an NHS waiting list really thinks that wittering on about the subversion of Jeffersonian democracy is much help but clearly our friends in Yellow Rosettes think it’s a real winner.
Mole would not be drawn and instead soberly stated that she thought it wrong to say that Big Don had betrayed Ukraine. She was then disarmingly polite to Rishi Sunak who popped up to offer his support.
Jeremy Corbyn dressed as Mr Bean
She was even patient and considered when another blast from the past appeared to ask a question from the furthest reaches of the opposition benches. Jeremy Corbyn had come dressed as Mr Bean and asked a deranged ramble posing as a question, featuring segues about feeling sorry for Russian soldiers and a weird bit about the Pope.
Less convincing was Mole’s wriggling when asked the $1million – or rather £40 billion – question by Ben Spencer about how on earth the Government expected people (including, one presumes, President Trump) to believe that Britain couldn’t afford to increase defence spending, while splurging seemingly endless cash into the hands of the Mauritian wallet inspectors.
Mole managed a mumbled comment about how under the last Labour government defence spending had actually been very high thank you very much, and then plonked down. She looked like she wanted the ground to swallow her up.
She probably shared this sentiment with her boss. The PM wasn’t in Westminster today but instead, in a one-man Alan Partridge tribute act, was being chased around a construction site by some enraged farmers.
Furious at his spite tax and general refusal to take their concerns seriously, the farmers blasted Noughties trance hit Sandstorm by Darude over their tractor horns while Sir Keir vainly tried to make gormless small talk with some goons specially assembled for the purpose.
In the end, still wearing his hi-vis, he rushed into his Land Rover and sped off while the farmers yelled “Talk to us!” at him. Sometimes I wonder whether, for all his insanity, Mr Corbyn could really have been much worse.
The House of Commons was heaving for Transport Questions as MPs lined up to associate themselves with the repair of the lifts at railway stations in their constituency. On such issues are paper-thin majorities maintained. Where the British public is less prepared to give electoral credit is in the defence of Europe from Russian expansionism. Just ask Boris Johnson about that. Correspondingly, as an urgent question about the Ukraine war began, we saw a great emptying of the green benches, especially on the Labour side, as MPs went to iron their lanyards or something.
Answering for the Government was Maria Eagle. Ms Eagle is an accomplished parliamentarian but seems an unlikely choice for defence. She has the appearance and general zeal of Mole from the Wind in the Willows. Pugilistic she ain’t. Still, this wasn’t really about the war itself but about spreadsheets. Mole was on surer ground here. Specifically, the Tories wanted assurances that, given the peril of the European situation, the defence budget would not be next for the Playmobil Chancellor’s great swingeing axe.
Of course the elephant in the room – or rather, not in the room but in the White House – was The Donald. Mr Trump’s phone calls with Vladimir Putin have understandably made Ukraine nervous. Yet they’ve made the Lib Dems absolutely giddy. Clearly hoping to appeal even more to the smug dinner party constituency, the Lib Dems have made performative horror about The Donald a benchmark of their questioning in recent weeks.
It’s symbolic of the cancerous America-brain afflicting the UK chattering class. I sincerely doubt anyone facing the gutting of their town centre or languishing on an NHS waiting list really thinks that wittering on about the subversion of Jeffersonian democracy is much help but clearly our friends in Yellow Rosettes think it’s a real winner.
Mole would not be drawn and instead soberly stated that she thought it wrong to say that Big Don had betrayed Ukraine. She was then disarmingly polite to Rishi Sunak who popped up to offer his support.
Jeremy Corbyn dressed as Mr Bean
She was even patient and considered when another blast from the past appeared to ask a question from the furthest reaches of the opposition benches. Jeremy Corbyn had come dressed as Mr Bean and asked a deranged ramble posing as a question, featuring segues about feeling sorry for Russian soldiers and a weird bit about the Pope.
Less convincing was Mole’s wriggling when asked the $1million – or rather £40 billion – question by Ben Spencer about how on earth the Government expected people (including, one presumes, President Trump) to believe that Britain couldn’t afford to increase defence spending, while splurging seemingly endless cash into the hands of the Mauritian wallet inspectors.
Mole managed a mumbled comment about how under the last Labour government defence spending had actually been very high thank you very much, and then plonked down. She looked like she wanted the ground to swallow her up.
She probably shared this sentiment with her boss. The PM wasn’t in Westminster today but instead, in a one-man Alan Partridge tribute act, was being chased around a construction site by some enraged farmers.
Furious at his spite tax and general refusal to take their concerns seriously, the farmers blasted Noughties trance hit Sandstorm by Darude over their tractor horns while Sir Keir vainly tried to make gormless small talk with some goons specially assembled for the purpose.
In the end, still wearing his hi-vis, he rushed into his Land Rover and sped off while the farmers yelled “Talk to us!” at him. Sometimes I wonder whether, for all his insanity, Mr Corbyn could really have been much worse.