Punch and Judy's antics will always bring the House down

SO THE first mighty clash between Tony Blair and John Major has come to pass, and lo, it went much as expected, with Tony Blair lashing out and saying John Major couldn't go on with such a divided government behind him and John Major lashing back and saying that if Blair thought the Tories were divided, he had better take a look at his own lot. And then both men glared at each other and were led back to their corners, panting slightly, as if they had come within an inch of a knockout blow. After this thrilling encounter, the experts conferred and decided it had been a close-fought draw, or what we punters call a non-event.

The reason it was a non-event was not that both men are unexciting performers. It was a non-event because it was always destined to be so. The exchanges between Premier and Leader of the Opposition are as ritualised as anything in the Book of Common Prayer or Japanese Noh Theatre. The insults thrown by the Opposition, the contempt shown back by the Government, the references to the last time the party of the honourable gentleman was in power, the witty digging up of bits from past speeches to contrast with what the honourable member is now saying - all this is part of some elaborate game as recondite as real tennis. The only difference between real tennis and parliamentary duels is that we are not governed by real tennis players.

One can see that it must be a great relief for Labour and Tory alike to get back to the dear old surroundings of the Lower House. When you are orating at a party conference, you have the same trouble that Morecambe and Wise always had - you are never sure which of your two audiences you should be flirting with. The Morecambe and Wise Show was always recorded in front of a live studio audience that you could never see, and it was to this audience that Ernie and Eric always reacted. They played off the laughter and reactions of the studio audience, but it was the camera (ie, we at home) that they were addressing even though they had no idea whether we were dead or alive, prostrate with laughter or down the pub. The same with politicians at the conference, who are playing for the standing ovation and the deep roar of approval in the hall, while trying to provide the sound-bite and the quotable quote for the media.

So it must have been nice for them to get back to Parliament, where they have to deal with only one audience, and that is the other team. (I know they also have a TV audience, but they show few signs of realising it, otherwise they would surely take steps to become more effective.) At last they can return to the old game of ritualised insults and exchange of barbed comments, as deadly as a pillow fight or an apple-pie bed. At last they can return to the old game, and ignore the rest of us.

The one thing that is not allowed by the rules of the game is to make fun of the game. The Opposition may say that the country is sick to death of the Government, and the Government may say that the country would be sick to death of the Opposition if it had the chance, but what neither side can say is that the country is sick of politicians, and uninterested in what anyone says in Parliament. Nobody in Parliament will ever stand up and say: 'The gang opposite are a load of second-rate mediocrities and the same goes for us, so why don't we change the rules of the game so that we can get a better bunch of players in?'

Meanwhile, the exchanges between Blair and Major will continue to be reported by parliamentary reporters, who are as committed to the rules of the game as Blair and Major are, and thus unlikely to blow the whistle, and a great old British tradition will be carried on, as British as Punch and Judy. Not so very different, come to think . . .

'Observers agreed that in last night's encounter between Mr Punch and the policeman, neither side got the better of the exchanges. The policeman challenged Mr Punch to spell out clearly his position on the matter of beating his wife and killing his baby, but Mr Punch tellingly retorted that that came well from a person who hung around with crocodiles. The policeman said that he would see about that, and Mr Punch beat him over the head with a string of sausages, and said that that was the way to do it. The House adjourned at 3.40 . . .'