Sketch: One of the Commons’ worst days
MPs, as a general rule, do not rise to the occasion. Usually, when events come along which require a higher standard of behaviour, they singularly fail live up to expectations, relying instead on party-political jeering and social cack-handedness.
This is not the big lobbying scandal. That will come sometime later. And when it does, wasted opportunities such as today will haunt MPs. So it was with expenses. So it will be with lobbying.
Francis Maude was thrown to the Commons' wolves like a sacrificial virgin, albeit one which could not please the eyes. David Cameron was nowhere to be seen. Instead, Maude was left to joust with Ed Miliband. He undertook the task with surprisingly confident party-political hatred and a cruel turn of phrase. It happened to be one of his better performances.
"Where's Dave?" the Labour benches shouted as he stood up.
"I'm not surprised Labour wants to drown out this statement," he said, only to be interrupted by Labour's ironic theatrical laughter. "Because its role in this saga is a shameful one," he finished, triggering a Tory eruption.
It was the tennis of dismay, each side trying to outdo the other with the banality of its response. Everywhere you looked there were fingers pointing, papers waving, the slapping of thighs.
Ed Miliband stood up, trying on his reasonable voice. He asked pretty much the right questions, demanded roughly the right pieces of information and hit most of the big notes.
The prime minister had "something to hide", he said. The Tory party inquiry was "a whitewash and everyone knows it". The millionaire donors to the Conservatives "did alright on the Budget". This scandal would leave "a permanent stain" on Cameron.
Miliband did his best to keep the row squarely where it was: on Cameron. the prime minister's behaviour this morning has been evasive at best. He issued a statement at the start of his dementia speech today, thereby avoiding questions at the end. The parliamentary timetable usefully breaks for Easter this Tuesday, avoiding PMQs. And he refused to come to the chamber today, sending poor old Maude instead. Later, the prime minister's spokesperson admitted they were struggling to get details about who he met in Chequers to the press because proper records were not kept, apparently. It all gave the impression of having something to hide.
As Miliband talked Maude taunted him with a 'come on, then' hand gesture – somewhere between a school bully and the creepy guy peering over the playground gates. He nodded menacingly, muttered, smiled and tapped his finger on his red folder, seemingly keen to get back on his feet.
When the time came he delivered a lengthy attack on Labour's relationship with the unions – all the old hits, including, of course, their role getting Miliband elected party leader. He also pointed out Labour's failure to appoint independent advisers for similar processes – a tacit admission of the Conservatives' own failure. Even Bercow's direct demand that he discuss actual government policy failed to deter him. On he went. "Len McCluskey," he said, citing the union leader's name like some demonic overlord. "Len McCluskey. Len McCluskey. Don't let him come here and grandstand and claim the moral high ground." More thigh-slapping and finger-pointing and shouting.
It is not an ideal world, so Labour did not sacrifice the party political advantage to tackle the thorny issue of party funding for the good of the country. And the government did not respond with anything more than a patently conflicted internal inquiry, whose terms of reference, chairman and procedure are all suspect. MPs did not aspire to a higher ethical standard, but instead made their comparisons to each other. And it is precisely for that reason that their behaviour continues to decline.
Dotted around the Commons, a few MPs from all parties held grave, sombre expressions. One or two sat stony faced, ponderous. Perhaps they were just distracted. Regardless, they kept their dignity.
