Julia Hartley-Brewer

If you spot the Prime Minister squirming and wriggling on the Syrian refugee issue, there’s a very simple explanation. The Prime Minister is in a very tight spot, caught between a rock and a hard place. And it is clear that he hasn’t yet decided the best way to extricate himself. After winning an outright Tory victory at the general election in May and the likely prospect of another win in 2020, he only has one major hurdle left during his term in office: winning the EU referendum. Whether he calls, as many expect, a vote as early as this spring, or waits until the end of his own self-imposed deadline of December 2017, Cameron will be campaigning to stay in. But as every day of the Syrian crisis passes, his chances of victory are getting slimmer.

The clock struck noon and it was if the past 32 years had never happened. Veteran Left-wing MP Jeremy Corbyn had, with seconds to spare, got the necessary 35 nominations to win his place on the Labour leadership ballot. And with that news, it became clear that the Labour party has not just failed to learn the lessons of last month’s election failure; they are still too busy ignoring the lessons of 1983. In that year, one of the party’s most traumatic defeats in its history, the British people voted en masse to reject Michael Foot and his socialist manifesto – famously dubbed 'the longest suicide note in history'. Today, no one in the Labour party – well, at least no one remotely sane – thinks Jeremy Corbyn will win the party leadership.

If someone accuses you of doing something that you haven’t done, there’s a really easy way of convincing them that you are not in fact guilty. The first thing you can do is deny the accusation. Very clearly, emphatically and categorically. Let me give you an example taken completely at random: 'Are you accusing David Cameron of being personally to blame for the refugee crisis in Libya and hence the deaths of hundreds of desperate people in the Mediterranean?' Now, can anyone think of a good way of answering that question which would be unequivocal and make it clear beyond any doubt whatsoever that this is not in fact what you are doing? One suggestion might be to say something roughly along the lines of this: 'No, I am not.' See, it’s really easy.

If I had a spare £1 million swashing about in my bank account or down the back of the sofa, I am pretty sure I could come up with, give or take, a million different and better ways of spending it other than donating it to a political party. A children’s cancer charity, for instance. Or, if I’m feeling a little less altruistic, a nice yacht maybe. Clearly, Richard Desmond, the owner of Express newspapers, couldn’t think of any better way to spend his hard-earned dosh so he’s decided to give his spare £1.3million to Ukip to help fund their general election campaign. This comes on top of an earlier £300,000 donation.

There was a time when both MPs and viewers of Prime Minister’s Question Time would welcome an interjection from the Commons Speaker. Indeed, there was a time when the Speaker commanded the respect not just of the entire House but the whole nation. But, after almost six years of John Bercow in the chair, that feels like the long and distant past. In the good old days, when Betty Boothroyd was Speaker, MPs on all sides would fall silent at the first inkling that she was about to rise to her feet. First she would daintily withdraw her black-stockinged feet from the green leather stool in front of her. Then she would draw herself up to stand just as the long, deep, almost gutteral sound of the first syllable of 'Orrrrrrrrrrr-der' would reverberate around the chamber.