Me, me, me ... the twitchy windbag was at his despotic worst

WHEN John Bercow rose to his feet shortly after 3.30 yesterday afternoon you could tell by his body language this was a moment he had been itching for all day.

As he surveyed the chamber with that sense of propriety which has become his staple in the Speaker’s chair, his face twitching with bristly anticipation, it was obvious this was to be no mundane procedural announcement.

What spewed forth from his mouth for the next twenty minutes of rhetorical windbaggery was met with incredulity on all sides of the House.

No forewarning had been given to any party what he was going to say.

The Prime Minister, the Leader of the Opposition – they were all hearing it, like us, in real time.

Labour couldn’t believe their luck. The Government simply couldn’t believe what it was hearing. If Mrs May’s deal is to be put before the House for a third time, the Speaker ruled citing a Commons precedent from 1604, then it would have to be substantially different to the one MPs voted on last week. She could not simply ask members to vote on exactly the same deal.

Bang! An Exocet rocket straight to the core of what remained the Prime Minister’s Brexit strategy. No wonder Bercow was smirking.

Chief whip Julian Smith was so stunned his lower jaw was hanging open. Someone on the front bench really needed to lean over and pop it back up again.

Once again the Government had been done over by the chair. Frustrating ministers and torpedoeing Brexit. These are what get John Bercow out of bed in the morning. Rules? Procedure? The chap just seems to make ’em up as he goes along.

The Speaker had been on unusually boisterous form for a Monday moments before making his statement during Pensions Questions.

He bantered with backbenchers. He joshed with his clerks. Plonked in the Speaker’s throne, his stumpy legs hammered up and down his footstool excitedly like a naughty toddler in a highchair.

When news emerged he would be making a statement once the session had finished it was swiftly obvious from his giddy behaviour the little goblin planned to drop a howitzer on the Government.

The House quickly filled as MPs rushed to hear what he had to say. How he seemed to enjoy that. He then rose to feet, clutching a stack of paper half an inch thick. Oh heck, we weren’t getting out of here in a hurry.

Here was the Speaker at his despotic worst. Putting himself at the centre of events and turning it into the John Bercow show, painting himself as Parliament’s fearless defender.

‘Part of the responsibility of the Speaker is to speak truth to power and I have always done that... I have never been pushed around and I am not going to start now... I am not a stickler for tradition but…’ I, I, I. Me, me, me. His oration became so florid and absurd at one point, work and pensions