The usual

Sketch: MPs couldn’t cope with a grown-up PMQs

Sketch: MPs couldn’t cope with a grown-up PMQs

Fidgeting MPs will be asking for their money back. The Commons chamber was a love nest, not a bear pit, this lunchtime.

By Alex Stevenson

It’s perfectly normal for the leader of the opposition to demonstrate his statesmanlike credentials in prime minister’s questions. Doing so usually takes up just two of the six allocated questions, though. That’s the done thing. So when Ed Miliband stood up and asked about Egypt, MPs assumed he would quickly move on to more stirring material.

It never happened. Question number three followed the tone of questions one and two: a considered query about the situation in the Middle East. “The whole House will be pleased by the prime minister’s answer” is not the usual form for PMQs. It won’t set pulses racing. Instead MPs began looking around, rather lost, as if they had turned up to the wrong Commons. Without their weekly fix of bile and contempt they were at a loss. Anything, from the looks on their faces, would have been better than the wrongfooting unity we had on show today. It was time to think about lunch.

Miliband simply refused to make a political point. By that third question rustling of bums on seats began to be heard. A low tremor of conversation slowly crescendoed as the assembled politicians realised their leaders simply weren’t going to go for each other’s throats. They had gathered out of habit, as they have every Commons Wednesday lunchtime, expecting their weekly dose of galvanising fight.

The aged Dennis Skinner peered around at the opposition benches to gauge their reaction. Sir Menzies Campbell and Bob Russell exchanged wry remarks. Only Tory grandee Sir Peter Tapsell remained utterly unmoved, as usual.

Having moved on to Afghanistan, allowing him to flag up his visit to the country at the weekend, Miliband continued seeking affirmation and unanimity, not confrontation. “I agree with him on that,” Cameron said in response to one question. MPs gave a confused laugh. Deputy prime minister Nick Clegg nodded slowly as Miliband spoke. This wasn’t how it’s supposed to happen!

With just one question left, Miliband finally addressed the bizarre line of questioning. “I sense that people aren’t used to this kind of prime minister’s questions,” he said. The awkward silence was broken with laughter. Cameron responded: “From the noises off people would prefer a bunfight… but sometimes it’s better to have a serious conversation.”

This was the prime minister’s questions which, until today, was only the stuff of Speaker John Bercow’s imagination. Backbenchers did their best to liven things up with a few punchy questions. But the session never recovered from its dampened start. The politicians had done what many ordinary people want: conducted their affairs in a mature and considered fashion. MPs didn’t like it one bit.

“They’ve forgotten the custard pies,” one Commons official observed as I exited. We shouldn’t automatically write off MPs, of course. They deserve credit for not starting a slow handclap.