The movie in my head, occasioned by the purchase of a new trench coat, is an elegant film noir, a stylish black-and-white production (so much more flattering to the middle-aged profile – think Simone Signoret in Les Diaboliques) in which I move about the rainy city radiating enigmatic purpose.
The movie of my life is pure Carry On. There was only George Osborne in his short trousers and prep-school belt with the snake buckle The Government had someone called Mr Pond. “So, we meet again, Mr Pond.”The needlepoint procedural technicalities were rehearsed The amendments were grouped, ungrouped and regrouped. We grappled with vesting periods, we struggled with transfer values, we were stunned by the task in front of regulatory impact review.

For once, the entire complement of Labour and Conservative backbenchers were outnumbered by the sketch writers. If you looked down into the great cockpit of democracy Labour had Kevin Nice young man Welsh. On the Conservative back benches, there was no one at all.
This was the first day of the three-day event (the thrills and spills, the tears and heartbreak) which is the Government’s Pensions Bill. The opposition was angry about the time allocated to the debate.

So angry that they spent half an hour debating a programme motion and then voting on it.You may not know what a programme motion is. But you probably won’t know what an affirmative procedure is either. I’ll be amazed if you get to the end of this sketch.The shadow minister wasn’t there and nor was the shadow minister of state. There we were we few, we happy few, we very few.