The Sketch: The Liz Hurley of politics is a'stunna' in the House

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So, back to Liz Hurley's breasts. As we noted yesterday: hers is the first cleavage in Britain (a matter of presentation), and the organs themselves are the perfect mix of texture, contour and subcutaneous fat (that is, substance).

I'm speculating a little on the second half of this proposition.

You may care to join me in a momentary reverie. Now then. Come back. That's enough I said!

Is the Liz Hurley of politics equally well endowed?

Yesterday at PMQs we saw that David Cameron is indeed a stunner. Or, more technically, "a stunna". We haven't seen everything, of course.

However, we can tell, even though he hasn't actually had his top off, that he hasn't had work; it's all natural. His first question contained the words: "Getting the good bits of his Education Bill through Parliament."

The good bits of a Bill! Not, you notice, "the effective clauses that will co-ordinate incentives to excellence and deliver the outcomes that ...". No, "the good bits".

The stuff pours out of him in a completely natural, kitchen-table sort of way. When he said: "He's talking about the past, I want to talk about the future. He was the future once." Oh, how that went home. Had Michael Howard said the same thing we would have winced and recoiled. The difference was purely of tone; it had a teasing edge, an almost regretful camaraderie, it was almost sympathetic.

Nothing kills like kindness. It's the second law of politics: "Friends are more dangerous than enemies".

What else? He commanded the House. He told off that old battle wagon Hilary Armstrong. He whacked her a particularly Tory way.

"Shouting like a child!," he accused her, the Chief Whip. "Has she finished? Have you finished?"

She had. Her backbench continued with animal noises for the next half hour (parrots, we thought, rather than chickens).

Then there was the policy. His toxic support could not have been more fondly, more intelligently, more ruthlessly applied to the Prime Minister. Readers, I wept.

"Given that the Bill cannot fail with our support, he can afford to be as bold as he would like," he said encouragingly.

One of us! One of us! But only if he has the courage!

The Bill is presented in three parts: Tony Blair's foreward gives us the pure oxygen of free market education (at his best when boldest, as we know). Ruth Kelly's introduction makes no mention of Sweden, Chicago or vouchers.

The Bill itself, hilariously, gives more power to local authorities. Therein lies the debate, and it's one that Cameron can win.

He is the Prime Minister's intellectual superior, after all. And he really does agree with him.

But the Prime Minister didn't lose the exchanges, let no one think that. Some Tories were excitedly saying, "Blair's finished!" Oh, no, no, no. That would be a very grave error to think that.