Sending a package to Northern Ireland is the signal for a near riot in an obscure committee

“It’s bent!” shouted Mark Francois. “Bent!” And with that verdict, the Second Delegated Legislation Committee descended into a wild riot of affronted dignity and unparliamentary language.

How did we get here? This obscure committee was set to wave through something thrilling called the Postal Packets (Miscellaneous Amendments) Regulations 2023 – until a Tory member bothered to read it and discovered that it meant that sending a package to Northern Ireland could become unfairly complex.

Sir James Duddridge, in a point of order to the House, recalled that the whips asked him if he’d be likely to vote against this assault on our precious Union. He said: “I might.” In that case, would he like to be replaced? “No.” Would he like to take a week’s holiday? “No.” Having refused all generous offers – a smarter man would’ve demanded to be made defence secretary – Mr Duddridge discovered he’d been removed from the committee by the whips, along with four other Leaver misfits.

It was a “sixth-form politics stunt!” Mr Francois told the House in the first of many such interventions.

“Can the Speaker confirm,” said William Wragg, who since announcing his retirement from politics looks like he’s won the lottery, “that any member can go to this committee to speak?” I can, said the Speaker, grateful that he wouldn’t be chairing it.

That privilege fell to Mark Pritchard – better known for campaigning against circus animals – who found himself playing ringmaster in Committee Room 11 to every rad, trad Tory lion you can name. The moment he called order, they leapt off their chairs and swallowed him whole.

Mr Francois: I’ve been here “22 years” and I’ve never known anything like it. Sir Bill Cash: “I’ve been here nearly 40 years,” and neither have I! Jacob Rees-Mogg, who one suspects has been here a full century, observed: “If members are obstructed from doing their duties, that is a molestation of a member.”

Mr Pritchard, perhaps shocked by the accidental innuendo, looked as if he might be sick. I’m sorry, he replied, but the rules state that the Government can indeed remove people from the committee.

‘Bent!’

But what of convention, yelled the crowd! It’s hokey-cokey, declared Mogg. That’s when Mr Francois upgraded the shenanigans to “bent”, forcing Mr Pritchard to demand a polite withdrawal. But the rules of parliamentary language do not apply to a committee, revealed Mr Mogg. Mr Francois apologised nonetheless.

The DUP’s Sammy Wilson called the whips’ actions a “purge”. “Pride’s purge,” said Sir Bill, invoking the Cromwellian ejection of dissident MPs.

Mr Francois looked ready to guillotine the entire political establishment. Mr Pritchard looked ready to cry. Danny Kruger, invoking the natural authority of having the best tailor in the room, stood up and said there might be a middle way … And the division bell rang.

The Cavaliers of the Tory Right spilt out into the corridor, bumping into the Diggers of the Labour Left, who had been fighting their own battle against Keir Starmer’s support for welfare cuts three doors down. I’m pleased to report that a conscience still beats in both parties.

Before exiting, Mr Francois turned to the press and said: “I’ll give you a word to describe it: farce!” He pronounced the word almost as if it had no F.