PMQs – 4th May 2016

by richardhutton

Dear oh dear. Another poor performance from Jeremy Corbyn in Parliament. It simply can’t go on – even those of us who have never supported Labour at any point in the party’s history, and wouldn’t vote for it in any circumstance, weren’t bowled over today.

By contrast PM Cameron was simply superb. Vigorous, glossy, and unbending; with – I hesitate to employ foreign parlance, but – sangfroid coming out of every orifice. In a word: predictable.

Firstly, the People’s Prime Minister congratulated Leicetham Villa on their triumph this week; heralding the clear message their success sends to all right-thinking people: “having worked their way up the league from the very bottom, without any assistance from the welfare state at all; with nobody considering creative financial-arrangements to have had any bearing on matters. A club after my own heart”.

Then Cameron got down to glass-tacks: challenging Mr Corbyn on the one chink of weakness he is known to have, in his beige-jacketed armour: that is, suspicions of involvement in witch-craft.

“Wilt thou renounce the devil – and all his works?” Cameron demanded. “Of course” Corbyn replied. “Oh, but it’s not enough to merely renounce he and they,” Cameron continued; “you must condemn them, also”. “Fair dos” Corbyn rejoined.

“But will you backdate the condemnation to Tuesday?” Cameron demanded.
“Yes” said Corbyn.
“But will you backdate it to Monday?” Cameron seethed.
“Yes” came Corbyn’s reply.
“But will you backdate it to Sunday” Cameron implored, his face turning crimson; various aspects of his anatomy bulging.
“Actually, that’s a bit too far back” Corbyn answered.
“Then cast out Satan, and be saved!” Cameron ejaculated; to the rapturous applause of all looking on. With a copy of the old King James in view, the Prime Minister then drew himself up to his full height, and pointed majestically at a table leg.

And with that Prime Minister’s Question Time was won.

Another resounding triumph for PM Cameron. For Mr Corbyn, however, the press corps awaited outside – their pitchforks gleaming in the light of innumerable flaming torches.