The Sketch: Mowlam has a rough ride as squall blows in off Irish Sea

FIRST WE had the knockabout - though it has to be said that the promise of a good slapstick head-to-head between The Two Johnnies wasn't entirely fulfilled.

John Redwood was in distinctly muted form, perhaps because his car-friendly policies, proudly unveiled on Monday afternoon, had been reduced to messy roadkill by the time the Tuesday morning papers had gone over them. He had a brief stab at John Prescott - teasing him about helicopter flights and indecision - but it was half-hearted stuff and not pressed home with the familiar Redwood relish.

Despite this, Mr Prescott wasn't too sharp himself and the really forceful attack was mounted by Glenda Jackson, who must have narrowly avoided being run down by Mr Redwood's Jaguar on entering the House, such was the asperity of her assault. Her slowly rising crescendo of abuse started with "carnage", rose through "the Herod of our century" and peaked with "ignoramus". She was forced to withdraw the last by the Speaker, and tartly replaced it with "comprehensive lack of knowledge".

Then the sunshine faded from the high windows and a more sombre light replaced it. The overcast weather had come across the Irish Sea and so had the subject matter, with the Government attempting to press through the Northern Ireland Bill. First MPs debated the timetable - the Tory, Eric Forth making a furious speech about "the most indecent haste" with which the legislation was being pressed through.

"I just hope that we don't make some kind of mistake" he said. It was an impressive display of parliamentary principle, almost Bennite in its constitutional rectitude and it would have been more impressive still had he actually stayed for the debate whose virtue he was protecting.

Then they got down to debating the timetable - the exact definition of "a few days" and "within a few weeks" being the most persistent theme of the afternoon. Mo Mowlam could offer no greater exactitude than the Prime Minister had last week - though she did wash her hands of the affair more efficiently, pointing out that it was up to General John de Chastelain to publish the schedule by which defaults would be judged. "One of the difficulties of independent bodies is that you can't tell them what to do," she said rather testily, after shouted requests for a clarification before any vote took place.

As if to provide a living example of this principle, Frank Field then intervened from behind her to ask, to murmurs of Tory approval, whether a freeze on prisoner releases should not be part of any failsafe mechanism. Ms Mowlam was getting a little rattled by this stage - fatigue or anxiety making her stumble as she picked her way through the tangled sub-clauses of her speech. And eventually she let her exasperation show, reminding those calling for exactitude that this was still the best chance for peace.

"It is, I accept, partially a risk," she said, conceding that the IRA might not keep its part of the deal. Before she could go on, a robust voice interrupted her: "It's a certainty!" There was an authentic Ulster ring to that - don't ask us to gamble on the future because we know it already, let' s go back to the past instead.

David Trimble, it should be said, does not speak in such terms. His speech was careful and forensic, at pains to make sure that the door didn't click irrevocably shut but loath to take his foot from behind it either. For him too the crux was timing - and he wanted not just a proper sell- by-date on Sinn Fein promises but also more time to reflect on the Bill's contents.

When they get their timetable they might be inclined to meet Mr Blair's, he implied, but not before.