Westminster is engulfed in scandal, so it was inevitable Jeremy Corbyn would lead on that sordid three-letter-word ending with ‘x’: tax. Importing 957 corporate jets “seems a bit excessive for any island anywhere”, said the Labour leader, once again trying out his tone of jokey understatement, which definitely doesn’t have the ring of having been constantly delivered in front of the mirror.

Actually, who am I kidding? Let’s not bother going through PMQs line-by-line. We all know what’s on your mind. MPs scanned the chamber, their eyes darting from alleged sex pest to alleged sex pest. On the government front bench sat several individuals who had been named in the newspapers in recent days, one only this morning. On the backbenches on all sides there were others. If only there were some kind of spreadsheet to keep track of them…

Andrea Leadsom’s near-puritanism had previously rendered her a joke; who’s laughing now? Like an otherwise useless badminton mistress on sports day, her moment has come. Leadsom’s loudly-trumpeted morals, slight dimness and (one imagines) propensity to go to bed early makes her the perfect handler for the delicate detail of sexual scandal. Today she acted as a buffer, keeping the scandalous out of shot, and like an angel at the Prime Minister’s elbow, lent a whitewash of purity to the nation’s viewing. Her star rises in these dark times…

In everything else, the House has seldom seemed more tiresomely predictable than today. There was a groundhog day atmosphere: the half-arsed, cross-party pledges to do something about sexual harassment. Theresa May never more comfortable in her wicket-hogging non-answers. Jez’s usual routine: launch, accelerate, fly well for about ten seconds, then crash and burn, like a rocket in the Venezuelan space programme.

The half-exciting topic of corporate jets soon degenerated into an often rehearsed script about the legacy of New Labour spending. Then there was Nandy’s “whips have dirt on MPs” shock. There was even a star turn from Dennis Skinner. 

He’s such an institution: that’s what they say about Dennis Skinner. In reality there is nothing redeeming about this utterly insufferable communist oaf. No one makes a better argument for a compulsory retirement age for MPs than this national embarrassment, a man only good for finger-wagging and shouting, who today, after seventy thousand years as a Member of Parliament, finally asked a question of relevance to his constituents.

House of Commons? House of Wrong’uns…