PMQs sketch: Dave's Darling

"He's on another planet," said Ed of the PM, with the look of a man who wished he could join him.

Those who have yet to buy a copy of Alistair Darling's book on his time with the Great Sulk should rush out and get one, because it is the only way to make sense of the farce that was the first Prime Minister's Questions since MPs took themselves off in July for their several holidays.

With the economy on its uppers, inflation on the increase and growth shrinking, we all knew what the hot topic of the day would be, as Ed (fresh from his nose job) set about Dave (poshly sunburnt; despite having to pop back to town for a few days because of the riots and Libya). Indeed, Ed had to be up for it following recent opinion polls showing Labour just a couple of percentage points ahead of the Tories, despite almost a year under his care.

And so Ed let Dave have it with both barrels: Why is the Government holding elections for police commissioners in November instead of next May?

Earlier, Dave had been seen in earnest last-minute conversations with Chancellor George (equally sun-tanned), being briefed on what tack to take when Ed launched his economy broadside; but this one seemed to stun him.

Indeed, the Commons fell silent for a moment as Members on all sides considered the import of this, the first question to the Prime Minister after such a tumultuous period in our national affairs.

The real reason for this question and the smile it brought to Dave's face had been spotted tucked under his arm by an eagle-eyed reporter as he entered the Chamber: a well-thumbed copy of Alistair's book.

The curse of the Ali/Alastairs is becoming a common thread in recent Labour history, and Alistair D's intervention seems to be at least as unhelpful as many of those attributed to Alastair Campbell.

In the latest Alastair missive, details of his tortuous relationship with Gordon Brown and the Stasi-like behaviour of his team, led by enforcer Ed Balls, are revealed; not unlike the revelations of the books by the other A. It should be remembered that Ed M was praised for his bravery by keeping Ed B away from the Treasury brief when he first took over as leader. But that bold plan was quickly dropped when Alan Johnson, Ed's odd choice for Shadow Chancellor, fell by the wayside.

Just to make matters worse, Darling recounts that Labour's 2009 budget was conceived in chaos and resulted in a complete mess of an economic policy; a bit of a bummer, since this is the plan the Opposition is presently sticking to.

With Ed the Enforcer sitting just a couple of seats away, it was soon obvious that Ed the Leader had decided to bottle it. After the questions on police commissioners came questions on waiting lists, and Cameron's grin only widened. "He's on another planet" said Ed, with the look of a man who wished he could join him.

This let Dave in with the one answer to the Labour Leader he hadn't expected to utter: "He doesn't dare in six questions to mention the economy". Even Nick smiled at that one.

With party conference season just around the corner, MPs back from their hols on Monday will be off again in just ten days for another three weeks of naval gazing. Dave must be delighted that despite presiding over the worst economic crisis for 60 years, he is still personally popular and his party almost up there with Labour in the polls. All he has to do is persuade the recidivists that the Lib Dems aren't getting away with blue murder. Nick has to persuade his lot they are.

Ed Miliband should have had the easiest job of all, but with the recent polls and today's performance, is the jury out again?

As Bill Clinton said: "It's the economy, stupid."

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

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

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Rarely has it mattered so little if Manchester United won; rarely has it been so special they did

Team's Europa League victory offers chance for sorely needed celebration of a city's spirit.

Carlo Ancelotti, the Bayern Munich manager, memorably once said that football is “the most important of the least important things”, but he was only partly right. While it is absolutely the case that a bunch of people chasing around a field is insignificant, a bunch of people chasing around a field is not really what football is about.

At a football match can you set aside the strictures that govern real life and freely scream, shout and cuddle strangers. Football tracks life with such unfailing omnipresence, garnishing the mundane with regular doses of drama and suspense; football is amazing, and even when it isn’t there’s always the possibility that it’s about to be.

Football bestows primal paroxysms of intense, transcendent ecstasy, shared both with people who mean everything and people who mean nothing. Football carves out time for people it's important to see and delivers people it becomes important to see. Football is a structure with folklore, mythology, language and symbols; being part of football is being part of something big, special, and eternal. Football is the best thing in the world when things go well, and still the best thing in the world when they don’t. There is nothing remotely like it. Nothing.

Football is about community and identity, friends and family; football is about expression and abandon, laughter and song; football is about love and pride. Football is about all the beauty in the world.

And the world is a beautiful place, even though it doesn’t always seem that way – now especially. But in the horror of terror we’ve seen amazing kindness, uplifting unity and awesome dignity which is the absolute point of everything.

In Stockholm last night, 50,000 or so people gathered for a football match, trying to find a way of celebrating all of these things. Around town before the game the atmosphere was not as boisterous as usual, but in the ground the old conviction gradually returned. The PA played Bob Marley’s Three Little Birds, an Ajax staple with lyrics not entirely appropriate: there is plenty about which to worry, and for some every little thing is never going to be alright.

But somehow the sentiment felt right and the Mancunian contingent joined in with gusto, following it up with “We’ll never die,” – a song of defiance born from the ashes of the Munich air disaster and generally aired at the end of games, often when defeat is imminent. Last night it was needed from the outset, though this time its final line – “we’ll keep the red flag flying high, coz Man United will never die" – was not about a football team but a city, a spirit, and a way of life. 

Over the course of the night, every burst of song and even the minute's silence chorused with that theme: “Manchester, Manchester, Manchester”; “Manchester la la la”; “Oh Manchester is wonderful”. Sparse and simple words, layered and complex meanings.

The match itself was a curious affair. Rarely has it mattered so little whether or not United won; rarely has it been so special that they did. Manchester United do not represent or appeal to everyone in Manchester but they epitomise a similar brilliance to Manchester, brilliance which they take to the world. Brilliance like youthfulness, toughness, swagger and zest; brilliance which has been to the fore these last three days, despite it all.

Last night they drew upon their most prosaic aspects, outfighting and outrunning a willing but callow opponent to win the only trophy to have eluded them. They did not make things better, but they did bring happiness and positivity at a time when happiness and positivity needed to be brought; football is not “the most important of the least important things,” it is the least important of the most important things.

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