You can spend many a happy hour engrossed in Hansard, the verbatim account of what happens in the Mother of Parliaments. I particularly commend to you the debates held in the House of Lords, where men and women of an independent mind (largely), great experience of the world (in the main), and impressive eloquence and erudition (with the exception of Lord Prescott) do vital work for democracy in acting as a check and a balance to the first chamber.

Speeches are generally shorter, and much more to the point, than those in the House of Commons, and as a result can be more enlightening, and indeed entertaining. There are some of Britain's best public speakers among our noble Lords, people who can command serious fees for an after-dinner turn.

I seem to recall that it was at one such event where I heard my favourite parliamentary story. It concerns Lord Annan, who was a leading figure in the movement to liberalise homosexuality.

Shortly after achieving success in the Lords, the following week he backed a bill to protect badgers. This was roundly defeated.

"I can't understand it," he said to one of his fellow Peers. "We vote to protect homosexuals, but not badgers."

"I think you'll find," his colleague answered, "there are very few badgers in the House of Lords."

This type of insouciant humour, however, might be a thing of the past. A Peer of my acquaintance (see how easy it is to slip into the lingo) said to me the other day that there is a widespread concern that the exchanges across the benches are becoming rather too similar to those in the Commons. They are a little bit "shouty", was the description.

The blame was laid on the recent intake of Lords, people who were invited to wear the ermine in recognition of loyal service to their political masters.

The Lords is about politics, of course, but it's about a whole lot more besides: culture, history and tradition. Not to mention the odd surprise. For instance, last week you could hear the creator of Downton Abbey defend the proliferation of advert breaks during the programme.

"It is wrong to present advertising as a sort of hideous evil that wrecks the programmes it appears in," said Julian (Lord) Fellowes.

He added that with the advertising revenue came the freedom to make the programme as the creators wanted. Well, that's a view. I always thought that it was the freedom from commercial concerns that brought the best out of creative minds.

Anyway, for the time being, it's all over. That's Downton, not the Lords, although the two institutions have much in common. They hark back to a time when manners were better and public discourse was of a higher quality.

It's a shame, however, that it's only the fictional Lords that the nation seems to care about.