A listless debate saw our freedom die not with a bang but a yawn

Twas the night before Lockdown and all through the House, not a creature was stirring, except a small clutch of irate MPS. You see, for much of yesterday’s debate, the PM was Awol. Perhaps, like political junkies everywhere, he was sneaking in a nap, having stayed up to watch the US elections. Perhaps he was taking the opportunity for a final business lunch or soft play session. Either way, his absence was eminently forgivable; it’s not as if MPS were debating whether to persist with the biggest seizure of personal freedom in British history, or anything like that.

Things began, in true Groundhog Day style, with expressions of regret and resolve. Though he admitted “the regional approach was showing signs of working”, the PM remained implacable on the need for escalation. “The whole House will share my sorrow at the necessity of these measures,” he emoted soulfully. Under the circumstances, this was a sly presumption. When you’re forcing supermarkets to cordon off “nonessential” items and banning socially distant outdoor sports, even the most lockdown fanatical lawmakers would probably find something disproportionate. And so they did. One by one, they stood, betraying their different interests from their special pleadings. Peter Bottomley lamented the closure of golf courses and outdoor tennis courts – though he drew the line at wrestling. Munira Wilson of the Lib Dems made a plea for skateparks.

Sir Keir Starmer quibbled on technicalities, critiquing the “lack of consultation” with faith groups ahead of restrictions on worship that Labour would have doubtless consulted on had they been in charge. The PM watched the tirade sullenly, arms folded, occasionally exchanging a disbelieving glance with Matt Hancock, like a pair of schoolboys caught in detention.

And the Health Secretary wasn’t setting the finest example either, tapping away on his iphone throughout – even after the Speaker reprimanded another MP for reading a newspaper.

When Theresa May arose, Mr Johnson scuttled out. Her plea for detail on the costs of lockdown reminded me of a Head of Economics at a girls’ school. “Come on Emily, I need proper detail, not just a speculative guess.”

Then the Brexit cavalry charged against its former commander. Iain Duncan Smith peppered clubbable praise for the PM with thunderous criticism. “It’s not a circuit breaker, it’s a business breaker!” he cried. “Modelling is not evidence!” roared Sir Edward Leigh. With a studied lump in his throat, Mr Hancock insisted “the measures do not come easily to me”. Why so modest? Not since an eightyear-old Mozart composed his first symphony has anyone taken so quickly to anything as has our Health Secretary to the seizure of power.

As Mr Hancock summarised the reasons for lockdown, a tired-looking PM re-emerged, staring listlessly at the ceiling. And that was how freedom died – not with a bang but a yawn. In the event, the rebels numbered just 38.