PMQs sketch: Deputy by default

Will.i.am Hague's promotion that never was.

Is it worth wondering, if only for a moment, how the political career of the Foreign Secretary would have panned out if his parents had called him Will.i.am rather than just William.

Those with long memories might recall how back in the day Hague .W. had tried out for the trendy vote by being photographed wearing a baseball cap.

But this did nothing to prevent him being crushed by the Blair bandwagon and replaced as Tory Party leader by the man with the charisma by-pass, Ian Duncan Smith.

But 20 years is indeed a long time in politics and IDS was amongst those who could only look on as the man who almost never was stood in for the present leader of the Tory Party at PMQs.

Dave had spent the weekend sunning himself in Mexico at the G20 and, as we now know, unsuccessfully dodging the attentions of the formidably-named Cristina Fernandez de Kirchner, President of Argentina.

Facing the thought of returning to London for his weekly humiliation at the hands of Ed Miliband at PMQs, the Prime Minister discovered he had important business to do with the President of Mexico.

This should have left the opportunity for humiliation to the Deputy PM Nick Clegg but he apparently found the prospect so grim and the lure of the Americas so great that he too fled the country using climate change as his excuse forb turning up in Rio.

Step forward then the Foreign Secretary who, despite his job title, could not find a suitable reason himself to be out of the country.

To be fair to William Hague, many in his party have spent much of the past years regretting having got shot of him so quickly.

It was part his wit, intelligence and sense of humour, frowned upon in traditional Tory ranks, which led to his downfall first time around. But it is precisely that which so delights them now as they reflect on the failures of the present incumbents.

Indeed, had Dave delivered the victory in 2010 without needing the Lib-Dems, William would have been Deputy PM and Nick would be topping up his tan in Reigate not Rio.

And so it was with some relief that the massed ranks shouted him to his feet at PMQs and it did not take long for one of them to welcome "my choice for Deputy PM" to the Despatch Box with the hope that William would seize the opportunity to cast their Lib-Dem partners into outer darkness.

Dave's absence meant a day off too for Ed M who is traditionally not called on to sully himself with lesser mortals.

As he pottered around his garden, in his place Labour delivered it's own formidably constructed deputy Harriet Harman who, well aware of the Foreign Secretary's debating skills, decided to step gingerly.

William bemoaned the absence of Labour's other Ed, he of the Balls variety, missing the running commentary during PMQs which has won him the coveted "most annoying man in British politics" title from Dave.

But missing too were the looks of fear and trepidation on the faces of Tory MPs which mark most PMQs as Dave tries, and fails, to keep his composure and his temper.

Indeed there was almost a holiday atmosphere on the Government Front Bench as Ministers, jobs secure for this day at least, swapped gossip and imagined life without him.

Ken Clarke positively beamed and onlookers could be forgiven for wondering if he had just woken from a long sleep to find William still in charge and Dave just a nightmare.

With Nick and Dave (not to mention George) all away despite the football, it was hard to imagine anything better.

But just to round the whole thing off nicely up stood Simon Hughes, one of the few senior Lib-Dems not to take the Government's shilling, to address a question to William as "the Deputy Prime Minister".

Mr Hughes is not a fully paid up member of the coalition and stout parties collapsed all round at the hopefully unintended error.

Ever gracious, the Foreign Secretary said he would keep Simon's slip to himself.

But you could probably hear the laughing all the way to Rio.

William Hague, the Foreign Secretary. Photo: Getty Images

Peter McHugh is the former Director of Programmes at GMTV and Chief Executive Officer of Quiddity Productions

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An alternative Trainspotting script for John Humphrys’ Radio 4 “Choose Life” tribute

Born chippy.

Your mole often has Radio 4’s Today programme babbling away comfortingly in the background while emerging blinking from the burrow. So imagine its horror this morning, when the BBC decided to sully this listening experience with John Humphrys doing the “Choose Life” monologue from Trainspotting.

“I chose not to choose life: I chose something else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who needs reasons when you’ve got Radio 4?” he concluded, as a nation cringed.

Introduced as someone who has “taken issue with modernity”, Humphrys launched into the film character Renton’s iconic rant against the banality of modern life.

But Humphrys’ role as in-studio curmudgeon is neither endearing nor amusing to this mole. Often tasked with stories about modern technology and digital culture by supposedly mischievous editors, Humphrys sounds increasingly cranky and ill-informed. It doesn’t exactly make for enlightening interviews. So your mole has tampered with the script. Here’s what he should have said:

“Choose life. Choose a job and then never retire, ever. Choose a career defined by growling and scoffing. Choose crashing the pips three mornings out of five. Choose a fucking long contract. Choose interrupting your co-hosts, politicians, religious leaders and children. Choose sitting across the desk from Justin Webb at 7.20 wondering what you’re doing with your life. Choose confusion about why Thought for the Day is still a thing. Choose hogging political interviews. Choose anxiety about whether Jim Naughtie’s departure means there’s dwindling demand for grouchy old men on flagship political radio shows. Choose a staunch commitment to misunderstanding stories about video games and emoji. Choose doing those stories anyway. Choose turning on the radio and wondering why the fuck you aren’t on on a Sunday morning as well. Choose sitting on that black leather chair hosting mind-numbing spirit-crushing game shows (Mastermind). Choose going over time at the end of it all, pishing your last few seconds on needlessly combative questions, nothing more than an obstacle to that day’s editors being credited. Choose your future. Choose life . . .”

I'm a mole, innit.