All in all, it was a very dodgy PMQs. Almost all dodgy events feature kebabs in some way. This was no exception.

“What’s happening on Britain’s streets,” demanded a Tory backbencher, “when the Home Secretary needs an armed police escort to go and buy a kebab?”

Gordon Brown flashed one of his weird smiles. It struck me that he may not know about Kebab-gate. After all, the Prime Minister has just joined the mile-high-living club, which required him to spend four solid days partying (sorry, discussing world problems) with Sir Richard Branson in India and China.

I am not sure they serve kebabs in first class. Indeed, from the look on Mr Brown’s exhausted face, I am not sure he knows what a kebab is.

He desperately needed a briefing note to explain this mysterious object. He was carrying a Mad Hatter’s pile of papers with him but, sadly, it contained nothing on this exoticism.

So the PM sidestepped the k-word entirely and boomed: “I want everybody in Britain to be safe and feel safe on our streets.”

A voice pierced the air. “You’re skewered!”

The Commons screeched with laughter. The PM did not. Again, he may be ignorant of the link between kebabs and skewers, never mind the connection between crime and kebabs.

He told us violent crime was down 31 per cent since 1997. On the front bench, the Home Secretary was looking queasy now. “There are more police than ever in our country!” cried the PM. Hmmm. Yes, and a great many of them were outside Parliament at that very moment, protesting against a pay deal that they think is about as dodgy as a kebab served on the mean streets of Peckham.

As David Cameron arose and started shouting about Northern Rock, the PM flashed another inappropriate smile. Oh, how he must yearn for his first-class cabin at times like this: his capsule bed, his little pyjama outfit, his fluffy socks and his light reading ( War and Peace in the original Russian).

With reluctance, he dragged himself back to PMQs and the wild-eyed man opposite demanding to know how much taxpayers’ money had been invested in Northern Rock. “If the bonds aren’t paid back and if Northern Rock fails to meet its obligations, what is the total exposure? How much?” demanded Mr Cameron.

The PM wouldn’t say. “It is our intention to get the taxpayer the best deal, their money back and to make a profit!”

Well, snapped David Cameron, the real answer was £55 billion and he accused the PM of acting like Del Boy.

The PM was pained. Del Boy? What was that? A horse? A pineapple? Was it related to kebabs? The world must be very confusing at times for our Prime Minister. Mr Cameron shouted: “This is a sub-prime deal from a sub-prime minister!”

This economic taunt hurt, not least because Mr Brown understood it, and the slug-fest began in earnest, a sort of Rocky VI in suits though, actually, I guess that would be Northern Rocky VI. The PM kept saying that the economy was stable, Mr Cameron the opposite. “Isn’t this Northern Rock deal just damaging, dodgy extra debt from a failed Prime Minister?” he screamed.

Yes, well, I think we’ve got the point now. But then Nick Clegg, the Lib-Dem leader, returned to the subject, shouting at the PM: “Isn’t the real truth this: you won’t nationalise the bank because you are running scared of the Conservative Party?”

The Tories, thrilled to be so important, went berserk. The whole fevered atmosphere felt out of control. Skewered? Well, someone is going to be.

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