His balding head was bobbing like a buoy in a squall

Parliamentary committees have witnessed their fair share of chumps over the years. Druggy ex-Co-op bank chairman Paul Flowers – the so-called Crystal methodist – springs to mind.

Or hapless ‘incurious George’ entwistle, director-general of the BBC for about as long as it takes to boil an egg.

to that list of prized bunglers, we can add the name of Sir Philip Barton KCmGe

OBe, permanent secretary at the Foreign, Commonwealth and Development Office (FCDO) who also revels in the frothy title of head of Her majesty’s Diplomatic Service.

Sir Philip was grilled yesterday by the foreign affairs committee. the subject: Our disastrous withdrawal from afghanistan. Folks, it wasn’t pretty. For two-and-a-half hours, his balding head bobbed around like a buoy in a squall, desperately trying to remain above water. and by the time the committee was done, i thought we might have to summon the rnli.

Barton appeared with our former ambassador to afghanistan, Sir laurie Bristow, one of the few senior figures to emerge with any credit in the afghan debacle, having remained in post during the evacuation. Joining via Zoom was another FCDO mandarin, nigel Casey, whose suave vowels and well-coiffed fringe suggested a man who drives in leather gauntlets and keeps debenture seats at all the necessary venues.

my first impression of Sir Philip was that he too might be a cool customer. He wore a standard issue Sir Humphrey uniform: Grey suit, clunking wristwatch, cruel spectacles. awaiting proceedings to begin, he sipped water as though savouring a particularly rich Barolo.

yet from the moment committee chairman tom tugendhat began his questioning, it became clear we were dealing with a panicker. He forgot basic details. He tripped over words. Whenever tugendhat pressed him on something, he would ask his colleague: ‘nigel, do you want to come in on this?’

things got tasty when tugendhat raised the thorny issue of Sir Philip’s summer holiday. When Kabul fell on august 15, he was sunning himself overseas. When did he decide to return? Clearly, Phil had been gearing himself up for this. He scrunched his hands and announced he’d had time to reflect on his leave. ‘if i had my time again i would have come back earlier,’ he said. yes, but when did he return?

‘august 26,’ came the response. in other words: 11 long days after the afghan capital fell into the taliban’s clutches.

as this information percolated around the oak-panelled room, a peculiar hush fell upon the committee. eyeballs flickered. Second hands on watches ticked.

tugendhat straightened his Clark Kent specs. He thought it ‘strange’ Sir Philip had not come back earlier. Ha! One way of putting it. Sir Philip cleared his rusty larynx and repeated himself. ‘i’ve reflected on my leave, on my leave, and if i had my time again…’

there followed a terrifying encounter with alicia Kearns (Con, rutland). lively miss Kearns, a former FCDO employee, is not a person one wishes to come up against on the hockey field. Boy, she can shout. One blast of those lungs could inflate a hot air balloon.

‘if this isn’t what failure looks like, what does?’ she bellowed. Barton fumbled and spluttered. nigel, help!

thanks to FCDO whistleblower raphael marshall, we learned this week Barton’s department during the crisis was workshy. reports came of some civil servants clocking off after eight hours, of others refusing to work weekends. ‘Bit rubbish,’ frowned Bob Seely (Con, isle of Wight).

in true Whitehall style, Sir Philip claimed he ‘didn’t recognise that characterisation’.

Chris Bryant (lab, rhondda) badgered Barton again about his holiday. We learned that he left on august 9, when he claimed there was no inevitability Kabul would fall.

Utter tosh. anyone with an internet connection could see the mullahs were on the brink of running rampant by then. tugendhat gave a disappointed shake of the head. ‘leadership matters,’ he remarked gravely.

With each put-down, you sensed Barton’s dismay. a lifetime climbing Whitehall’s greasy pole – and now here he was, being patronised by a panel of backbench nonentities. there was even a dressing-down from Claudia Webbe (ind, leicester e), that lovely creature recently given a suspended sentence for threatening to throw acid on someone but still somehow an mP.

Should Sir Philip ever pen his memoirs, he may wish to caption that exchange in the index as ‘career low point’.