Sketch: Pursed lips in a new parliament
Two very different pursed lips summed up the first meeting of Her Majesty’s new parliament. Bercow struggled to contain his relief, Clegg struggled to look dignified.
The deputy prime minister is usually a lively individual. That seems to have changed after the excitement of last week, though: the weight of government seems to have suppressed him somewhat. He spent most of today’s Commons session trying not to breathe.
This was not just because the benches were crammed. John Bercow, wedged tightly between two youngish female Tory MPs on the government backbenches, had something of an excuse for adopting his usual rather crowded, hunched posture (he is the only man in the chamber capable of looking claustrophobic in the ridiculously large Speaker’s chair). He watched patiently as the Cabinet and its shadow traipsed to the Lords and back. They did their usual pairing-up act: David Cameron and Harriet Harman, followed by Yvette Cooper and Ken Clarke (what could they possibly have to say to each other?). On their return Jack Straw was talking animatedly – and a little too forcefully – with Nick Clegg, who looked rather miffed. If that was the tone of the coalition talks, no wonder they failed.
After a speech from Sir Malcolm Rifkind punctuated by groans from MPs as they realised it still wasn’t over, came the key moment. Sir Peter Tapsell – father of the House and magnificently resplendent in a black morning coat – called for the vote on Bercow’s future. As predicted, a group of Tory malcontents hiding beneath the press gallery yelled “no”. Sir Peter ignored them completely. “I think the ayes have it,” he said lightly. Bercow, sat forward, stared in front of him, slowly pursing his lips, as the jeers began. It didn’t matter that the laughter which rolled around the chamber as he spoke was mocking rather than respectful. He’s installed for the next five years
This was an occasion for pomp and ceremony, of course, but mostly for novelty. All present seemed utterly gleeful at the fact that everyone was sitting on the other side of the room. Most interesting was the absence of Lib Dems, who had squirreled themselves away opposite their old territory. Yes, they were on the frontbench, but it was a paltry presence. Labour MPs seemed far happier than those of the third party.
The Lib Dem who appeared most reserved of all was Nick Clegg, who – unlike other party leaders – was not given the opportunity to congratulate Mr Speaker on his re-election. As part of the government it appears the Liberal Democrats have lost the right to speak up on their own behalf. Clegg appeared to be rebutting the Speaker’s eye, half-shaking his head as he stared from the government frontbench.
The impassiveness of government seems to have seeped over Nick Clegg far too quickly. He seemed stilted, smiling ever so faintly as he gazed on at the events taking place around him. The contrast with the smiling David Cameron, already full of contempt for the opposition, only accentuated the weakness.
It was a truly chilling moment: the outraged David Blunkett, huffing and puffing at the government daring to take steps when the Commons was not in session, was met with wide grins from Cameron and his frontbench colleagues. Their righteous indignation only a few weeks before seemed to have faded in the memory. Cameron was theatrical in his rejection, grinning and appalled in equal measure. He seemed only a jot away from shrugging expansively.
Clegg stayed shock still. The slightest, smallest frown flickered on his face twice. He pursed his lips.
He was trying to play it cool. But it came across as if he was trying not to make any sudden movements, as if doing so would end this impossible dream of power.
