This was like a Scots version of Joe Pesci’s meltdown

In a way, I feel as though I’m the wrong person to write about the little show the SNP put on at PMQS yesterday. It should really be our theatre critic. Sadly, he wasn’t there, but I can imagine what his review might have said. An entertaining enough farce, but the script was clichéd, and the acting terrible.

The pantomime began with Ian Blackford (SNP, Ross, Skye & Lochaber) ranting that, during the Brexit debate, Theresa May had “silenced Scotland’s voice”. The Prime Minister tried to calm him. After Brexit, she replied, the Scottish parliament would have more powers than ever.

Mr Blackford reacted as if she’d just whipped out a saltire and set light to it. “The people of Scotland will not be disrespected!” he bellowed. All around him, his fellow nationalists raged and howled. Joanna Cherry (Edinburgh SW) jabbed her order paper at the Tories opposite and snapped, “Funny, is it? IS IT FUNNY? IS IT FUNNY?” It was like watching a Scottish version of Joe Pesci’s meltdown from Goodfellas.

Bizarrely, Mr Blackford then demanded that the House sit “in private”. In the Commons, sitting in private means banishing all journalists, and switching off the TV cameras. In other words: he wanted Scotland’s voice to be heard … but not by the public.

Tolerantly, the Speaker offered Mr Blackford a vote on his request, to be held straight after PMQS. The SNP would have to wait no more than 20 minutes. In the eyes of Mr Blackford, however, this was a scandalous affront.

Every time Mrs May or the Speaker opened their mouths, Mr Blackford would leap up, cut them short, and demand the vote be held immediately. All the while, his colleagues bayed, cheered, or clapped. Pandemonium reigned.

“I beg to move!” yelled Mr Blackford.“You’re not moving anything,” said the Speaker.

“NOW!” roared David Linden (SNP, Glasgow East). The Speaker’s eyes narrowed. “Mr Linden,” he retorted, “I say to you in the kindest possible spirit: don’t tell me what the procedures of this House are. I’m not … No! NO! Mr BLACKFORD!”

For the umpteenth time, Mr Blackford had leapt to his feet to demand an immediate vote.“Order! Order! ORDER!” bawled the Speaker.

It was entirely in vain. There was nothing else for him to do but to expel Mr Blackford from the chamber. Mr Blackford stalked proudly out – followed instantly, snarling and gesticulating, by every last one of his colleagues.

Afterwards, Mr Blackford hotly denied that the mass walkout had been plotted in advance. It was, he insisted, not a publicity stunt. This might have been slightly easier to believe had he and his colleagues not marched straight outside together to address the TV news channels.

Back in the Commons, peace was restored. It so happened that among those watching from the gallery was the baby daughter of Clive Lewis (Lab, Norwich South). The baby, noted the Speaker drily, had conducted herself impeccably.