Class warfare broke out during Education Questions yesterday. I blame Boris Johnson. Sometimes even his presence in the chamber is enough to cause mayhem. It certainly sent Dennis Skinner over the edge. Not that it takes much to do this. “Fight the class war!” Mr Skinner cried at a Labour Party conference a few years ago. Believe me, he continues to do little else.

You could see it coming. There was Boris, the Dulux sheepdog in a suit, sprawled on the front bench. He was more rumpled than usual, his hair like a whirligig. Boris is in a complete state because there are plans to scrap Ancient History A level.

He is taking this personally. Indeed, several Tories have got their togas in a twist about this. They do little else but quote Cicero who, they are sure, would be appalled. Boris cannot stop referring to it. It is like a highbrow form of Tourette’s.

When Boris shambled up to the dispatch box it was supposedly to ask a question about how to get more poor children into universities. Why, he demanded, were students in state schools not studying more “crunchy” subjects? I wondered why he was talking about breakfast cereal. He then announced that “crunchy” subjects were maths, sciences and (of course) ancient languages.

Suddenly his voice rose in spluttering anger. “Does he agree with me that it is TRAGIC that there are plans to get rid of Ancient History A level because that will only intensify the dominance of a small number of schools in the Latin and Greek classics and close down a potential route to university for children in the maintained sector that is potentially deeply socially regressive?”

Surely Cicero could not have said that better. He certainly could not have been more inflammatory. For now up sprang Mr Skinner, at 75 still the dingo of the Commons. His ancient sports coat (it never changes) flapped ominously as he adopted his class-warrior stance. All he was missing was a slingshot. “Isn’t it becoming increasingly obvious that the kids who are going to Eton school and are educated beyond their intelligence, like some of those on the front bench,” he said, looking at Boris, who was thrilled beyond belief to be attacked, “are being given additional opportunities to go to the posh universities while working-class kids don’t get the same chance?”

Alan Johnson, the Secretary of State for Education, is a working-class kid who did not go to university. Perhaps that is why he, now, also got a slingshot. In his defence, he was provoked by the Tory Andrew Robathan. “I get representations from teachers who say they are sworn at three times by under-14-year-olds before the start of the school day,” Mr Robathan insisted. “This is not in an inner-city school! It’s in Leicestershire!

Mr Robatham ranted on. We were developing an “anti-learning” culture. No one respected teachers any more.

Mr Johnson swaggered up to the dispatch box. “Well there speaks the authentic voice of Colonel Blimp from the saloon bar of the Dog and Duck, somewhere in Leicestershire.”

Mr Robathan, who used to be in the Army and knows Colonel Blimp personally, shouted: “Answer the point!”

Mr Johnson shook his head. “Not a good example of good behaviour from his public school education.”

At this Mr Skinner began muttering again. I am not sure that this was the kind of dialogue that Socrates had in mind.

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