Jeremy Corbyn should have arrived at PMQs ready to swing a wrecking ball at Theresa May over Carillion, but, in scenes beyond parody, Labour’s Bob the Builder forgot his tools. Geriatric Jez ruined his digs at May by digging himself a hole: yet again he forgot to ask the Prime Minister a question, to which May – somewhat surprisingly – responded:

“I’m very happy to answer questions when the right honourable gentleman asks one. He didn’t.”

To remind Jez to do his job properly, Carillion could offer the bearded wonder a few tried and tested techniques. Fix flashing orange lights to his folder beside each question, perhaps, or equip Labour MPs with fluorescent jackets emblazoned with reflective question marks. Rig up a siren to blare “NOW ASK THE QUESTION”, punctuated by loud beeping, like the audible warning emitted by a reversing lorry. Get a demolition team in (there should be a few short of work now), fix explosive charges to the Labour front bench, and detonate one every time Corbyn speaks for more than a minute without asking anything. Alternatively, equip loudmouth Thornberry with a nailgun, and let her remind the fool who’s boss every time he cocks up…

For Jeremy Corbyn, the world should be run like a 1970s construction site. At the first sign of any difficulty, the shout “down tools, everybody out” should go up. The guilt of Corbyn’s middle class childhood has led him to fetishise the honest labour of tubby, whistling sub-contractors, who he imagines carry only union cards and sandwiches in brown paperbags, rather than dream of betterment for their children. At this most staged of all PMQs, he flicked the faux anger switch, increasingly the most tired of his tactics, growling at the government for issuing contracts “even after the share price was in free fall and the company had issued profit warnings”.

If only Theresa May could reply: “do you know what a profit warning is? Can you name Carillion’s share price? Can you explain how contracting out works? Can you name a single project Carillion has worked on?” It’s worth remembering in these situations that Jezza is as sharp as a blunt saw and as quick as a PFI project.

In fact, Jez is now so inefficient at doing his job at PMQs – not even asking questions, which is the entire point, considering it is called Prime Minister’s QUESTIONS – the only sensible option left is to privatise him. Putting Labour’s PMQs role out to tender would attract a variety of bidders (most of the shadow cabinet, for a start) keen to streamline the whole enterprise, cutting down completion time and providing a better customer experience in the process. Bringing Jezza into private ownership would remove a considerable burden on the taxpayer, bring about improvement by competition and would allow Corbynistas to put their money where their mouth is and buy shares in the old duffer. Best of all, in the real world, the useless fool could finally be fired…