The Debatable Land

Tomfoolery from the Labour Backbenches

Tom Harris's blog is a very useful creation. Now as it happens I don't think that parliamentary democracy is under threat because Damien Green was arrested, disgraceful though that arrest certainly was. Nonetheless, there's little doubt that this government has, time and time again and to an extent that may be as modern as it is largely unprecedented, ignored ancient parliamentary procedures and consistently demonstrated a contempt for "old-fashioned" concepts of liberty and the rule of law.

Thus Mr Harris's latest post is usefully illuminating. He writes:

As the right-hand man to Shami Chakrabarti the then Shadow Home Secretary, David “Remember him?” Davis, Dominic [Grieve, the Shadow Home Secretary] did a sterling job in defending the rights of terrorist suspects because he thought the government was being too, too beastly to the little darlings.

Note the sly insinuation that the Conservative party's heart and mind has been captured by a civil liberties group. Note too, the thuggish pretence that one is either "with" the terrorists or "against" them (even, especially before they've been charged.) And remember that Harris supports a government that wanted to lock citizens up without charge for 90 days and when it couldn't get that tried to push for a mere (but still outrageous) 42 days. To oppose this isn't to be in favour of encouraging terrorists to do their worst. It's the kind of rhetorical tactic favoured by the more rutish, less reflective, type of American Republican in the 2004 elections. A kind of tactic that, were it deployed against Labour, Mr Harris might well find somewhat offensive. Contra Mr Harris, one can be in favour of "law and order" while also being suspicious of handing the police ever-greater powers.

Then again, I suspect he would - rightly in my view - have been outraged had Tam Dalyell been arrested for receiving leaked information from Clive Ponting about the sinking of the Belgrano. That of course was a more serious affair since the information, rightly or not, was covered by the Official Secrets Act.

Once again, one decent test of having reached any sort of intellectual maturity is the ability to judge your own sides blunders (or successes) by the same standards you would use to evaluate those made by the other mob. (This, mind you, is a test that most of us fail occasionally). Still, I suppose it can't be any great surprise that Members of Parliament would fail this test consistently. But do so many of them have to?

Tales from the House of Commons 2

Time to return to TP O'Connor's Sketches in the House, his account of the 1893 parliamentary session. Back then, happily, the government could not yet guillotine a bill and so obstructionism - or filibustering - was a legitimate, if infuriating, parliamentary tactic. Much to Mr O'Connor's irritation...

Again I repeat, obstruction is a matter not of intellect, but temperament. Intellectually, I should put Jimmy in a very low place, even in the ranks of the stupid party. Temperamentally he stands very high. A brief description of his methods of obstruction will bring this home. First, it should be said that he is entirely inarticulate and, beyond rough common sense, destitute of ideas. He has nothing to say, and he cannot say it. There are men in the House of Commons who have plenty of thoughts, and who have plenty of words besides, and could branch out on any subject whatever into a dissertation which would command the interest even of political foes. But Jimmy is not of this class. He is capable, on the contrary, of bringing down the loftiest subject that ever moved human breasts to something stumbling, commonplace and prosaic. When he gets up, then, his speech consists rather of a series of gulps than of articulate or intelligible statements. But then mark the singular courage and audacity of the whole proceeding. There are traditions still in the House of Commons of the marvellously stimulating effect upon followers of leaders, who were proverbial for their oratorical impotence. Everybody remembers the scornful description* of Castlereagh which Byron gave to the world; and yet it has been said in some memoirs that the moment Castlereagh stood up and adjusted his waistcoat, there was a thrill in the House of Commons, and his followers bellowed their exultation and delight. In a more recent day, Lord Althorpe was able to bear down the hostility of some of the most powerful orators of his time by a bluff manliness which no rhetoric could withstand. And so also with Jimmy—his sheer audacity carries him along the slow, dull, inept, muddy tide of his inarticulate speech.

And curiously enough, it is impossible to put him down. On March 6th he was commenting on some item which he supposed was in a Post-office Estimate. It was pointed out to him that the item to which he alluded was not in that particular vote at all, but in quite another vote, which came later on. Jimmy, nevertheless, went on to discuss the item as if nothing had been said. Then the long-suffering Chairman had to be called in, and he ruled—as every human being would have been bound to rule—that Jimmy was out of order. Was Jimmy put down? Not the least in the world. He made an apology, and, as the apology was ample and his deliverance is slow, the apology enabled him to consume some more minutes of precious Government time. And then, having failed to find fault with the estimate for what it did not contain, he proceeded to assail it for what it did contain. Here again he was out of order, for the estimate was prepared exactly as every other estimate had been prepared for years. This answer was given to him. But Jimmy went on—gulping and obstructing, obstructing and gulping. It is amusing, perhaps, to you who can read this description as part of an after-dinner's amusement, but what is one to think of a Parliamentary institution that can be so flouted, and nullified by mere beef-headed dulness? This is a question to make any one pause who has faith in Parliamentary institutions.

*Of course you do. "Posterity will ne'er survey/A nobler grave than this:/Here lie the bones of Castlereagh:/Stop, traveller, and piss."

The Game is the Game

My friend James Forsyth asks a daring question: "Will Peter Mandelson end up a National Treasure?" A crazy notion, you may feel, but not an impossible one!

Now, of course, in many respects Mandeslon is a dreadful character, but whereas, say, Alastair Campbell is a mere thuggish bully, Mandelson is a subtler operator who enlivens, rather than demeans, the political game. I suspect the lobby is delighted that he's back. Who could fail to be amused by the manner in which he smoked George Osbourne this summer, as though the Shadow Chancellor was but a kipper? This was Mandelson as his slimy, effortlessly loathsome best. There was something brilliant in his audacity and his continuining ability to argue that black is white and vice versa. The man is a player (and a hater, of course) and one often has the sense, ruthless though he is when it comes to advancing the government's perceived interests, that there's also an element of devilry in his approach to politics: the game is the game. It never changes and should be enjoyed for what it is, no more no less.

In that sense, Mandelson operates on the same playing field as the media: policy is often important only in as much as it advances factional interests (that is to say, to hell with the country). What matters is who has the upper hand. It's the Oneupmanship school of politics and this, of course, is catnip to the Westminster classes. As such, his return from the Brussels Wilderness is A Good Thing, enlivening life at Westminster no end. Though one may despise Mandelson, it's also possible to hold a quiet admiration for the Hartlepool Machiavelli. He's a worthy opponent who, one also likes to think, has a rather keener sense of irony than any of the other founders of New Labour. Factor in his own misjudgements that have, deservedly or not, cost him much and you have a compelling picture: the flawed, meandacious, ruthless, political genius... A recipe ripe for rehabilitation, for sure...

One other thing: Mandelson was, I think, a pretty good Secretary of State for Northern Ireland. Certainly, he was a great improvement upon his predecessor, the execrable Mo Mowlam.

Four Characters in Search of an Author

In his latest Life&Letters column for the Spectator, my father has some fun imagining how different novelists might have treated the Curious Affair of Mandelson, Osbourne, Deripaska and Rothschild. For instance:

Somerset Maugham, for instance, would have told it straight, dead-pan, through his favourite disillusioned, mildly cynical, narrator — old Mr Maugham himself, scarcely disguised — and would have presented it as an example of human folly. His focus would have been on Osborne, depicted as a callow young man of dangerous sincerity.

However as the story unfolded in the newspapers — Osborne’s account of the conversation with Mandelson in the Greek taverna, Rothschild’s letter to the Times, the revelations of Mandelson’s previous dealings with the oligarch — it seemed as if we were reading an episode from Simon Raven’s Alms for Oblivion series. It had the familiar gamey Raven ingredients: betrayal of confidences, the desire for revenge, unfaithful friends. Money floated in the air, forever just out of reach of the English public-school product eager to get his hands on it. Only a sexual element was lacking, but Raven would have supplied it. Perhaps the Mandelson figure had taken a fancy to the youthful Osborne one as an undergraduate, charmed him, seduced him, and then abruptly dropped him? Something like that. Meanwhile the Rothschild character might himself be a discarded lover of the Tory politician and now besotted with the Labour one. There ought to be a Greek boy somewhere, but I don’t quite see where he is to be fitted in...
 
[Or it could have been written by] Disraeli obviously. The story has all the ingredients of one of his glittering political romances: the idealistic ‘Young England’ Tory, the scion of a great Jewish house, the sinister foreigner whose dark ambitions are never fully disclosed (for any such disclosure would strain the reader’s credulity), and at the heart of the novel the master-intriguer M, motivated less by malignity than by the sheer delight he takes in his ability to lure the innocent O to his doom. The novel would reek of great wealth, subject of fascination to one as habitually and heavily in debt as Disraeli. Almost every page would be enlivened by sparkling epigrams, such as may never fall from the lips of the originals, paradoxes and political maxims, and the denouement would be fantastic.

‘When I want to read a novel, I write one,’ Disraeli said, and it’s a shame he is not still about to write this one. Mandelson certainly is a character who cries out for a novelist with his gifts.

Whole thing here.

MPs to Media: You're On Notice

This week's (latest) head-in-hands, what-the-hell-is-going-on? moment comes courtesy of the Intelligence and Security Committee at Westminster. The Independent reports that:

Britain's security agencies and police would be given unprecedented and legally binding powers to ban the media from reporting matters of national security, under proposals being discussed in Whitehall.

The Intelligence and Security Committee, the parliamentary watchdog of the intelligence and security agencies which has a cross-party membership from both Houses, wants to press ministers to introduce legislation that would prevent news outlets from reporting stories deemed by the Government to be against the interests of national security.

The committee also wants to censor reporting of police operations that are deemed to have implications for national security...

The ISC report said the DA-Notice system "provides advice and guidance to the media about defence and counter-terrorism information, whilst the system is voluntary, has no legal authority, and the final responsibility for deciding whether or not to publish rests solely with the editor or publisher concerned. The system has been effective in the past. However, the Cabinet Secretary told us ... this is no longer the case: 'I think we have problems now.'"

Consequently, there are moves to make DA-Notices legally enforceable. That is to say, the government should have statutory powers to censor the media. Should this happen, then as sure as eggs is eggs you can guarantee that there will be a massive increase in the number of DA-Notices issued and that, furthermore, most of them will be designed to spare the government embarrassment rather than protect national security.

But, hey!, fundamental abridgments of liberty are OK if it's in a good cause, right? The great thing about "national security" is that it can be invoked to cover just about anything. Or rather, there are plenty of people who fold whenever the "national security" card is played, no matter how ludicrous or implausible the reasoning behind the bluff may be.

As you might expect, David Davis makes sense on the matter, here.

An American PMQs?

Peter Suderman endorses the idea that life in Washington would be considerably improved if the American president were subjected to some kind of equivalent of Prime Ministers' Question in the House of Commons. By life, I mean, of course, the quality of political entertainment. And given the dreary nature of most of what happens on the Hill - or in the White House Rose Garden for that matter - one can see why many Americans find the idea appealing.

And yet, it's hard to see quite how any American equivalent would work. PMQs is not, it should be said, quite what many Americans think it is. That is to say, it is more a matter of style than substance. As someone who thinks politics could do with more, not less, heckling and cheering and booing I'm quite in favour of this. But one ought not to pretend that the weekly interrogation is designed to shed much light upon the government's latest imbecility.

On the one hand, you have the government's back-benchers asking planted questions along the lines of: "Does my Right Honourable friend agree that he his handling of this latest crisis has set an example that is the envy of the world and does he further agree that the party opposite have no answers to this or any other issue and that, not to put too fine a point on it, they also propose taking away ponies from every child in the country. Will the Prime Minister assure the House that he is the best man for the job and will he also remind the country that we on this side of the House are the only party that is, and always has been, pro-pony?" And on the other, of course, you have opposition MPs just trying to look smart. This too normally produces groans.

Nonetheless, the knockabout does serve a purpose in as much as it pits the Prime Minister against the man (or woman) who would seek to replace him were an election held the following week. As such, it's great fun for the Westminster village, pundits and bloggers. Who is up? More importantly, who is down? How much this tells anyone about which leader is better-equipped to actually govern the country is a moot point. But the entertainment comes from the fact that the PM is up against the fellow who wants to take his job. That gives it a pleasingly personal edge, but also makes it rather harder to see how an American version would work.

That said, if the US were to do this, I would suggest the President* be required to appear before a joint Congressional committee one afternoon a month to answer questions from members. The leaders in the House and Senate could be joined by 6 Republicans and 6 Democrats, chosen by lot, who would each have 10 minutes to question the President. Importantly nay, crucially, no opening statements would be permitted.

Even so, because the US ain't a parliamentary system, you're not going to have fun and games of this sort. That is, moments in which the leader of the opposition can make the sitting Prime Minister appear a rare old chump and, in the process, help change the way in which both men are perceived. And that, of course, is also why no US President will countenance endangering himself in this manner.

It might also be said that PMQs encourages a certain coarseness in politics and that, while often entertaining, it can also at times, also be something akin to seeing a kitten devoured by a pack of hyenas. Not that this is necessarily a bad thing, of course.

Quote of the Day

David Davis, in an interview with the New Statesman:

"I mean you know what it's like, you've worked here, making a speech in the House of Commons is a very good way to keep a secret."

There's some interesting stuff too, on Afghanistan, civil liberties and David Cameron.

Tales from the House of Commons

It's time for a new occasional series! I've been reading a collection of parliamentary sketches written by the Irish nationalist MP T.P O'Connor that chronicle the course of the Second Irish Home Rule bill through the Houses of Parliament in 1893. Much of it is delightful and, I thought, worth sampling from time to time here, both on grounds of entertainment and as evidence that many of the essential rules of political engagement remain unchanged.

Here, for instance, is O'Connor describing the general attitude and character of political life in the era of Gladstone, Disraeli, Chamberlain, Asquith and Balfour.

Mr. Gladstone had a notice upon the paper on Monday, February 27th, the effect of which was to demand for the Government most of the time which ordinarily belongs to the private member. There is no notice which has more hidden or treacherous depths and cross-currents. For when you interfere with the private member, you suddenly come in collision with a vast number of personal vanities, and when you touch anything in the shape of personal vanity in politics you have got into a hornet's nest, the multitudinousness, the pettiness, the malignity, the unexpectedness of which you can never appreciate.

I sometimes gaze upon the House of Commons in a certain semi-detached spirit, and I ask myself if there be any place in the whole world where you can see so much of the mean as well as of the loftiest passions of human nature as in a legislative assembly. Look at these men sitting on the same bench and members of the same party—perhaps even with exactly the same great purpose to carry out in public policy, and neither really in the least dishonest nor insincere. They are talking in the most amicable manner, they pass with all in the world—including themselves—for bosom friends; and yet at a certain moment—in a given situation—they would stab each other in the back without compunction or hesitation, to gain a step in the race for distinction.

Between two other men there intervenes not the space of even a seat; they are cheek by jowl, and touching each other's coat-tails; and yet there yawns between them a gulf of deadly and almost murderous hate which not years, nor forgiveness, nor recollections of past comradeship will ever bridge over.

And look at the House as a whole, and what do you see but a number of fierce ambitions, hatreds, and antipathies, natural and acquired—the play of the worst and the deadliest passions of the human heart? Above all things, be assured that there is scarcely one in all this assembly whose natural stock of vanity—that dreadful heritage we all have—has not been maximised and sharpened by the glare, the applause, the collisions and frictions of public life.

I have heard it said that even the manliest fellow, who has become an actor, is liable to be filled to a bursting gorge with hatred of the pretty woman who may snatch from him a round of applause; and assuredly every nature is liable to be soured, inflamed, and degraded by those appearances before the gallery of the public meeting, the watchful voters, the echoing Press, and all the other agencies that create and register public fame.

...It is no secret that there are in this, as in every House of Commons, a number of gentlemen who do not think that their services have been sufficiently appreciated by the Minister to whom the unhappy task was given of selecting his colleagues in office. This is the case with every Government, and with every House of Commons—with every party and with every Ministry.

You do not think that the favourite of fortune whom you envy has reached a period of undisturbed happiness when he sits on the Treasury Bench—even when he speaks amid a triumphant chorus of cheers, or drives through long lines of enthusiastically cheering crowds. He has to fight for his life every moment of its existence. He is climbing not a secure ladder on solid earth, but up a glacier with slipping steps, the abyss beneath, the avalanche above—watchful enemies all round—even among the guides he ought to be able to trust.

Do you suppose that every member of the Liberal party loves Mr. Asquith, and is delighted when he displays his great talents? Do you think that none of the gentlemen below the gangway do not believe that in their mute and inglorious breasts, there are no streams of eloquence more copious and resistless? No, my friend, take this as an axiom of political careers, that you hold your life as long as you are able to kill anybody who tries to kill you, and not one hour longer.

Aye, 'twas ever thus...

Hague's Wisdom

William Hague warns David Miliband not to challenge Gordon Brown and offers this priceless spot of advice:

"People want normal politicians and David Miliband is more geeky, more like me... David Cameron could wear a baseball cap, whereas Miliband would find it harder to appear normal. I must have a word with him and give him some advice - don't try to be normal when you aren't. As I never want to be leader of my party again, I don't have to try to be normal any more."

[Hat-tip: Coffee House]

The View from Beyond Westminster Bridge

Since I wrote this, I'm hardly likely to disagree with the thrust of Matthew Parris's column in The Times today, am I?

I distrust clichés such as “Westminster village”, but there are occasions when they fit. Within the space of an afternoon a relatively small number of people - MPs, broadcasters, journalists, party hacks - gathered within a relatively confined space and, communicating mostly with each other, worked each other up into a clear, sharp and settled judgment on the question of the hour. By now it was almost unanimous. The judgment was conveyed electronically to the offices of the national press, bouncing back at Westminster in the form of vituperative editorials and opinion columns by dawn the next morning.

Thus, by echo, a single opinion reinforced and magnified itself. David Davis had acted eccentrically. He had acted independently. He had acted dangerously, self-interestedly. He had been profoundly unhelpful to his Tory team.

None of these accusations do I dispute. Had I been one of Mr Davis's confidants, I would have tried hard to dissuade him from taking a risky and exotic stand that makes doubtful constitutional sense, and can alter little about his country except the way that it sees him.

But there is one big assumption that I do dispute - that the electorate will not be impressed. Theirs is a voice that was not heard, asked for or even mentioned as Westminster, Broadcasting House and Fleet Street whipped themselves into a frenzy on Thursday afternoon.

Although I wouldn't bet on it, this Tory maverick may touch a surprisingly popular nerve.

David Davis: Principled Troubador or Egomaniac?

Everyone agreed that David Davis's resignation yesterday was extraordinary political theatre and that it would be a rash man who predicted its consequences. Some pundits were prepared to acknowledge the bravura  - even the foolhardy courage - of Davis's decision to risk ridicule and disaster on a supposedly quixotic personal crusade but, as the presses rooled and Friday's editorials and analysis columns were pinged onto the internet, something remarkable happened: after a day spent wondering how brave a man must be to predict the consequences of Davis's actions, the Westminster press corps and its gaggle of pundits and metropolitan swells came to a single conclusion: David Davis must be mad.

Dissenting voices are hard to find. Almost to a man (and woman) Westminster has a) acknowledged that this takes us into unchartered waters and b) declared this a disaster for David Cameron, C0 an invitation to humiliation for David Davis and d) a blessed relief for Gordon Brown. Even if there were no other factors to consider, this stunning example of the herd mentality in action should give one pause to ponder whether, hardly for the first time, the Westminster pack may be wrong.

I do not say that it is, merely that the view from inside the Westminster bubble is not the only view. This is especially true when the herd finds itself in unfamiliar territory. The temptation is always to follow the pack for fear of being left behind; isolated, alone, foolish.  I do not mean to be critical here; after all, some of my friends run in this pack. But the lobby, like all organisations, is vulnerable to groupthink and it is at least possible that, for understandable reasons, its members have in this case sought comfort from the body-heat of the political herd. In America this might be called "Beltwayitis" and it's scarcely unknown for sufferers of this particular affliction to be surprised by the public mood. Fraser Nelson and, remarkably, Simon Heffer see to have been among the few who have survived this virus.

But, say Labour and some pundits, the public supports Gordon Brown on 42 Days! Of all the topics upon which to oppose the Prime Minister, David Davis has picked the one in which, almost uniquely, Brown has the upper hand! What further proof could there be that egomania has caused some kind of seizure in the Davis cranium? Well, perhaps. But then again, perhaps not. These Labour sods should be careful what they wish for. In the short-term they have avoided the Sunday newspapers focusing upon the bribery of MPs, but is that enough?

The public, or at least a goodly swathe of it, may give Davis credit precisely because he has, on the face of it, put himself on the supposedly unpopular side of the argument. In a cynical age in which voters have become accustomed to discount everything politicians say as being no more than the product of focus groups and an innate, oleaginous desire to pander, there's much to be said for a politician who, by deed as well as action, cuts through the chaff of spin and declares in yeoman fashion: This is who I am, this is what I believe. Sceptics will say the public won't wear this, but even sceptics are sometimes wrong.

I have some, admittedly anecdotal, evidence to support this view. It was striking, yesterday, how many of my friends declared themselves impressed by Davis's "stunt". "Brilliant" and "inspiring" said one, "Bloody hell... [I] always sneakily liked David Davis" was another's opinion. "I never thought I'd see the day where I am speechless with admiration for a Tory Shadow Home Secretary" was one view; another was the declaration that "I am trying and failing to reconcile 'The only good Tory is a dead Tory' with David Davis's apparent good health". Now, yes, these people are my friends, but they are, in these instances, friends who vote Labour or Liberal Democrat. A tiny, unusually well-educated and in no way respresentative sample for sure, but not, as the Americans say, chopped liver either. Merely the chuntering of the elite? Well, perhaps, but I rather suspect the public (whom I have mocked on this issue) may grant Davis a better hearing than the punditocracy has seen fit to do.

And consider too that the reputation of parliament  - and parliamentarians - is at a low ebb. The public has good reason to view MPs with suspicion. Scarcely a week goes by without fresh revelations about MPs lavish expense accounts or their ability to put close relatives on the gravy train payroll. All this brings parliament into disrepute and rightly so. And now here's David Davis resigning from parliament on a point of principle. How refreshing! What a change! How admirable! There will, I bet, be many voters who might not agree with Davis on much, or indeed anything, who find themselves drawn to the idea of a politician who risks his career for a point of principle. The electorate is fed-up; it is in a sour, rancourous mood. The suspicion politicians must learn to endure is curdling into revulsion, creating a situation in which an honest man can earn lavish, even embarrassingly generous, garlands simply by virtue of standing upon principle. Is it really too far-fetched to suppose that David Davis might in some way benefit from this public mood?

The Fresh Winds of Principle

David Davis, the shadow Home Secretary, resigns his seat to fight a by-election on the principles of liberty and justice. A startling move, by any measure. And one worthy of respect. If he wins - and the Lib Dems have said they will not put up a candidate to oppose him - then, happily, he'll make it harder for the Tories to succumb to their worst instincts and backslide on the repeal of 42 Days and other intrusive government legislation, once they return to power.

UPDATE: New Shadow Home Secretary Dominic Grieve says the Tories will repeal 42 Days. Good. If Davis's actions forced this clarification then that alone seems a decent enough justification for his move. As you would expect, Iain Dale has more.

Responsibility, Duty, Decency

Mr Eugenides observes that for all the talk - much of it reasonable - that the Tories are soft on liberty and that we lbertarian-types should therefore vote for UKIP (no thanks!), UKIP's only MP, Bob Spink, voted with the government on 42 Days. In the comments, Trixy, of Is There More to Life Than Shoes fame, says this was fine because he wasmerely reflecting the views of his constituents.

Which means it's time to give Edmund Burke's famous 1774 speech in Bristol another airing...

"Certainly, Gentlemen, it ought to be the happiness and glory of a Representative, to live in the strictest union, the closest correspondence, and the most unreserved communication with his constituents. Their wishes ought to have great weight with him; their opinion high respect; their business unremitted attention. It is his duty to sacrifice his repose, his pleasures, his satisfactions, to theirs; and, above all, ever, and in all cases, to prefer their interest to his own. But, his unbiassed opinion, his mature judgement, his enlightened conscience, he ought not to sacrifice to you; to any man, or to any sett of men living. These he does not derive from your pleasure; no, nor from the Law and the Constitution. They are a trust from Providence, for the abuse of which he is deeply answerable. Your Representative owes you, not his industry only, but his judgement; and he betrays, instead of serving you, if he sacrifices it to your opinion.

The Importance of Kicking Gordon

Defeat for Gordon Brown on 42 Days yesterday would have been catastrophic. But, as I suggested, victory hasn't done him much good either. The Spectator samples press reaction:

"Desperate Brown scrapes through" says the Guardian, quoting Dianne Abbott saying it was a “grubby bazaar”. Just how grubby is shown by the Daily Mail which names those concessions. “Winner or Loser?” asks The Independent’s front page and editorial argues for the latter (“A victory that only exposes Mr Brown’s weakness”). The Mirror’s spread says simply “Day of Shame”. The Times’ leader says simply “Westminster for Sale” saying this horse trading will only further lower the public’s opinion of British politics.

All true. In The Times Matthew Parris has an excellent suggestion:

David Cameron should now think very hard about putting down a motion of no confidence in the Government, precipitating an early debate next week. Strong arguments against doing so will be urged: it would give the Parliamentary Labour Party a cause to rally unanimously around; it would be resoundingly defeated; and some might call that an own goal. But with a government majority of 66, the Tories are never going to win a confidence debate. The time to call one is a moment when mood and argument, if not arithmetic, is with them. Now is that moment.

In political legend it would attach to June 2008 the appropriate dark significance - and portent of things to come.

Also all true. Another reason for calling a no confidence debate? It would be terrific fun.

PMQs: 42 Days Edition

Here's Cameron vs Brown at Prime Minister's Questions today.