Stand on ceremony? No time for that when the first race is at 2.30

It just wasn’t the same. Normally, the State Opening of Parliament is a dazzling festival of finery. Not this one. There were no horse-drawn carriages. Empty spaces yawned on the peers’ benches. The Order of Procession was full of holes: no Maltravers Herald Extraordinary, no Rouge Croix Pursuivant, no Gold Stick in Waiting. The Duke of Edinburgh had been admitted to hospital overnight – a precautionary measure, said Buckingham Palace – and so the Prince of Wales filled in, guiding the Queen up the steps to the throne.

Traditionally at the State Opening, the Queen is a vision to which TV cameras never do justice: the Imperial State Crown, the 18ft Robe of State and a glittering galaxy of diamonds. This time, she was wearing a blue coat. And instead of the crown, a blue floral hat.

The State Opening, we’re assured, wasn’t pared-down as some kind of slight to the Government. The official explanation is that, as the election had been called so abruptly, the Palace decided it would be impossible to rehearse and perform the full ceremony so soon after Trooping the Colour.

In the circumstances, though, the air of perfunctoriness seemed strangely apt. For the minority Government, a minimal State Opening. A ceremonial going-through-the-motions, an ermine-clad shrug. An anti-climax before it had even begun.

‘The air of perfunctoriness seemed strangely apt. For the minority Government, a minimal State Opening’

Perhaps it was for the best anyway. The Queen had the races to get to straight afterwards, and the crown might have looked a bit too dressy.

While the Lords waited in musty silence, Black Rod strode off to fetch the MPS. Labour veteran Dennis Skinner coughed out his traditional heckle.

“Get your skates on,” he rasped. “First race is half past two!”

Well, at least some things never change. The Queen’s Speech itself – written on Her Majesty’s behalf, as always, by her Government – was a masterpiece of padding. The Tory manifesto had been summarily junked. Little of substance remained.

Theresa May looked on impassively. Up in the gallery sat her husband Philip. Unusually for him, he wasn’t smiling.

In the afternoon, MPS began their debate on the contents of the speech. The debate is due to last a week. Goodness knows how they’ll fill it. By Tuesday they’ll probably be bringing in board games.

Still, Mrs May appeared to have recovered at least some of her composure. In contrast to a flailing rant from Jeremy Corbyn, her statement was dignified, measured – and at times self-deprecating. She noted that Kwasi Kwarteng – the Tory MP who had seconded the Humble Address to the Queen – was a keen political historian.

“Members may know that his most recent book profiled the most testing six months for our country’s first female prime minister,” said Mrs May. “It ran to 272 pages. I fear his next book could be somewhat longer.”

That depends, I suppose, on how long the second female Prime Minister’s got left.