“I’m a professor of government at the LSE and I’ve learnt things in the past fortnight I never knew,” the kindly Lord Donoghue remarked. I pictured the scene in households throughout Britain as they turned their attention to the evening news. “Here, Brenda,” I imagined the cry going up, “put them chips back in t’oven. That fella wi’ t’ big glasses is talking about the Parliament Act.” In truth, there was a simple explanation for the way the Lords behaved this week. One pro-hunting peer told me: “They can kill us off but I’m damned if they’ll decide the date of our execution.”

What, I keep asking myself, had the Prime Minister been up to during the seven years and 700 or more hours of parliamentary time during which the future of hunting had hung in the balance? He had, after all, condemned hunting as cruel and voted for a ban, before going on to argue and vote for a “compromise”. Come the ban, I asked him if he would be celebrating. It was clear that he would not. Many, myself included at times, have been tempted to see all this as a ruse. Tony Blair simply wanted to look reasonable — a word his minister used no fewer than 25 times in the Commons — and to blame the Lords for the failure to find a compromise. His concern was for his election prospects, not the future of the countryside. I asked an aide what he had done to secure a compromise. “Very little,” came the candid reply. His excuse was that this was a free vote. The reality, I suspect, was that Mr Blair came to regret too late his manifesto pledge to resolve the future of hunting. He realised that he could not persuade his party to back a compromise. This is why he ended the week appearing to declare: “Don’t blame me, I’m only the Prime Minister.”

• AS DRAMA was building in Parliament it was draining away down the road. We hacks had assembled at Lancaster House to celebrate the Entente Discordiale. We knew we would be all right with Jacques Chirac in town. He could be guaranteed to fuel le row, and we could roll out those stale jokes about the leaders’ lunchtime menu including hard cheese and sour grapes. It was not to be. We tried to provoke Monsieur le Président. We really did. I asked him whether he welcomed the idea of Britain as a bridge between the US and Europe. Diplomats say it is an idea that he loathes and yet he could not have been more diplomatic. As reporters’ shoulders sank in dismay, I swear I saw the Prime Minister smirk.

  There were ministers a-plenty present to witness this outbreak of cross-Channel affection but neither the Chancellor nor the French Finance Minister was there. Could that possibly be because it would have been a little awkward to have Nicolas Sarkozy in the room? He has let it be known that he will run for the presidency — against M Chirac if necessary.

• ON RETURNING to the Commons I was rebuked by a minister who said that only the foreign journalists had asked sensible questions. Hunting, apparently, was not deemed worthy of the Prime Minister’s attention. To be fair and, as I have already confessed, it is true that most in the British media lost interest in the Anglo-French talks once le row was off the agenda. Agreement makes for dull news. So, is our obsession with conflict, splits and personalities undermining democracy? That night I travelled to the Oxford Union to defend journalism against this very charge. It was ably levelled by the Editor of The Guardian, Alan Rusbridger and by John Lloyd, of the Financial Times, an arch critic of the media. I am happy to report that on the night my side won, but I do hope that the debate goes on. Given the level of hostility to politics, journalists and politicians alike must try harder.

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