Toothless Ed drew less blood than Suarez
POOR Ed Miliband. It could – should! – have been his big day. David Cameron cowered before him as a golf ball on its tee, waiting to be whacked. Everyone watched, Tories figuratively shielding their eyes, Labourites and Speaker Bercow full of happiness.
The Coulson cow pat was so fresh, it was still steaming. This would be the moment we saw those joke- shop teeth spring from their kennel. Those Rubik’s Cube- champ f i ngertips would close round the Cameron windpipe. Ed would show them! He would make worthwhile all that beastly business when he beat his bro’ and wrenched Labour to the left. He would be avenged on all his critics.
Have you ever seen an Olympic polevaulter hurtle down the runway, knees lifting high, his face full of athletic intent? Great sight, isn’t it?
Prong! Our hero jabs his pole into the ground. He rises in the beginnings of a magnificent arc. The crowd gasps. His trainer starts to dream of gold. But then – och noooooo! – the pole snaps in two, fragile as a Twiglet. The vaulter crumples to the floor.
It is hard not to feel sympathy for the Labour leader. These set-piece ‘cinches’ are never what they seem. Expectation management is an under-appreciated art in politics.
A prime minister in difficulties will make much more effort preparing for PMQs. Mr Cameron was on his bench early yesterday, wearing spectacles and working in a detailed way through a folder of notes. He had a copy of the Leveson Report at his side.
Mr Miliband entered late, looking confident, Muttley Balls behind him, acting for once in a subordinate way. Perhaps they did not spot the Leveson Report.
Labour MPs had even hurrahed the old Snorker when he arrived for the session. Labour MPs cheering Ed Mil! Now that hasn’t happened for a while. The party’s Chief Whip, Rosie Winterton, sashayed in clutching both sides of her tummy, her arms crossed. Excited.
Angela Eagle, Shadow Leader of the House, leaned forward and gossiped greedily to Rosie. Chris Bryant (Lab, Rhondda) essayed a pose of serene superiority.
Ian Lucas (Lab, Wrexham) rubbed the upper thighs of his trousers so hard, we almost had a Terylene friction fire on our hands.
The Speaker had already made an 11.30am statement about sub j udice rules ( bit l ate for that, chaps!) but he repeated it at midday. Never one to pass up an opportunity to make his voice heard, this Speaker.
A Tory backbencher, Damian Collins (Folkestone & Hythe) was first on the order paper and he immediately raised the Coulson business. This allowed Mr Cameron to get out an apology before Ed Mil could demand one. Drat.
When his moment came, Mr Miliband, again cheered by his side as he reached the despatch box, said that for four years Mr Cameron had employed ‘a criminal’ as his adviser. Why had he ignored all the people who told him of this danger. Eh?
MR Cameron kept his cool. He based his answers largely on the Leveson Report. Ed Mil became increasingly gobblegobble, eyes popping with confected crossness. Mr Cameron went the other way. He became increasingly smooth. ‘Leveson made no criticism of my conduct whatso- ever,’ he murmured. The Miliband voice started to crack. He accused the PM of dodging blame and ignoring advice from a former cabinet secretary. Eeek. This was becoming technical.
Mr Cameron shot back that Mr Miliband one day attacked Rupert Murdoch and next day posed with a copy of Murdoch’s Sun – ‘only to issue an apology’ for doing that a few hours later. Big burp of delight from the Government benches.
That was the end of the moment for Mr Miliband. After 12.30pm he l eft the Chamber to dejected silence from his MPs. He came. He saw. He drew less blood than Luis Suarez. So much for those darn teeth. They might as well have been made of rubber.
He was later seen in the Commons tea-room, first time for a while. Damage limitation, I fear.