Labour’s deputy, flame-haired and dressed in a blazing red smock sat in her place, as for a funeral pyre. She looked as if she could go up at any minute. Obsessives will know all the trouble she’s in and expected her immolation imminently.

Deputy Dowden had brought faggots and a match and had never looked more pleased with himself. What a magnificent beadle he will make, if ever the office is brought back.

Angela Rayner rose from her place to Tory shouts of More! More! Attack being the best form of attack, she plunged into the crowd with two broken bottles and laid waste to Tory expectations. “I know the party opposite is desperate to talk about my living arrangements but the public want to know what this Government is going to do about theirs.”

It was a neat trope and delivered with her characteristic flare.

It’s true her flame wavered occasionally. Her demand to know when the Government was going to do something to reform the rental market was answered with the words, “This afternoon. Renters (Reform) Bill: Remaining Stages. Until 7pm.” She shouldn’t attempt tongue twisters and her distinction between the freehold ban on houses rather than on flats was nice but niche for this level of PMQs.

The final twist in Dowden’s face of her broken bottle (backstabbing on behalf of a pint sized loser) will be remembered for days. So, she survived. Which is more than can be said for Frank Field (see below).

Mhairi Black put the mass grave of Gaza onto the Floor of the House without seeking moral profit from it. Why is the Government not designating the 300 executions a war crime and withholding arms for Israel? The way she asked the question meant that reasonable people could try and answer it.

Iain Duncan Smith described something closer to home and apparently less significant. Yes, it occurred in Essex, and true, it concerned Boots the chemist – but future historians might find it a greater factor in the death of western civilisation than all the atrocities of this century. It was the casual, unhurried looting of a high street Boots, without fear of being caught, or even criticised. It’s happening more and more, what with the police now working from home.

Labour’s Sarah Wood criticised the Tory mayoral candidate – commentators better informed than I will put a name to that person. Apparently, the candidate has said, “The Black community has a problem with crime.” Moans of Shame! Shame! around her. Perhaps she’ll be arrested before the polls open.

At least the increase in the Defence budget, welcomed by John Baron, will bring the DEI regiment up to fighting strength.

We heard of a Gay Tax that is pricing gay couples out of having a family – the state is refusing them free fertilisation facilities. There are other ways of going about that, of course. And what with school fees, the cost of healthcare and the price of preschool smart phones – heterosexual couples are being priced out of having families probably rather more.

Labour backbencher made a shocking claim, that the Tories had “given away the future of the children of Teeside”? That really made the blood boil. To give away children’s future – have you seen the Net Present Worth of a child? These people are Conservatives in Name Only. No wonder the public finances are as they are.

And on that perhaps depressing note, it must be reported that the death of Frank Field produced a shower of quite unforgivable remarks in the Chamber. What a nice fellow he was. How he worked to make the world a better place. What a tireless campaigner he was. It really takes the shine off dying to hear these things said out loud. And him no longer here to defend himself.

Frank was deeply ashamed of his hubris, thinking he could win as an independent in the constituency he had worked for decades. He never said a thing your sketchwriter disagreed with, which makes his survival in the Labour party a marvel. He campaigned energetically against the disadvantaged, dispossessed and disenfranchised designating them as Neighbours From Hell. He advocated removing their benefits and housing them in cages underneath the southern flyover. As a young and affectionate sketchwriter, I thought it better for his sake not to report that modest proposal he gave me in his 2001 campaign. To his credit, he never forgave me.

What important thing he knew we shall never know now, but it must have been pretty good to have got him into the Lords. Ave atque vale, Frank.