It was his final 15 minutes of fame and John Prescott went down shouting. He has been in hospital with pneumonia but now he was back for his last Deputy Prime Minister’s Questions.

His face was as crumpled as a used crisp packet, his eyebags so heavy that they looked illegal. You have to be healthy to look that bad. Plus we could tell that he was feeling better because he was bursting with boasts and bile. He was, as William Hague noted fondly, back in “rude good health”.

Prezza loved this. Indeed he adored the whole shebang. And why not? For this session was all about him, as no one has a clue what his department does anyway. Prezza had decided to go out on a high, as in high culture. Bizarrely, his chosen theme of the day was Greek mythology. I am sorry to report that, perhaps predictably, the god of pronunciation was not on his side.

Last week David Cameron, in a moment of madness, said that the six deputy leadership candidates made the DPM look like a cross between Ernie Bevin and Demosthenes. Prezza’s normal reaction to being called names is to throw a punch. This time he decided to throw a punchline. After all, that is what great orators do.

“It seems that while I was away,” he noted, visibly puffing up as he concentrated every molecule of his being on getting this right, “the Leader of the Opposition had something to say about me too. He described me as a cross between Ernie Bevin and Dame Ostonees!”

There was a tiny time lag as MPs tried to figure out who this Dame Ostonees was.

Screams of excitement erupted when they realised that a new Prescottism had been born. “It’s true I’ve not yet figured it out,” noted the Dame as s/he embarked on yet another perilous linguistic journey.

“The Leader of the Opposition reminds me of someone too. When I read classics and Greek mythology at the Ellesmere Port secondary modern school, we learnt about Narcissus. He died because he could only love his own image. Yes, he was all image and no substance!” William Hague watched this with ever widening eyes.

Finally, he stood up and drawled: “Well, I am sure that Dame Ostonees will be very flattered that you have singled her out for praise!”

There was another dame in the chamber. I speak, of course, of Dame Gerald, as the peacock who is Sir Gerald Kaufman is called. He jumped up to praise Prezza. “Happy anniversary,” he cried, for Prezza has been an MP for 37 years this week. “There is nothing like a dame,” crowed Dame Gerald (I may have misheard that but the sentiments were the same).

Prezza glowed and, then he did his duty, as Greek gods who are also great orators must for the sake of their public. First he thanked MPs for their kindness and generosity over the years. And then he looked up at the press gallery. “Something I can’t say for the fellow beasts or the penny scribblers up there,” he cried to hoots of joy from MPs and also us fellow beasts (this I presume is Prescott’s version of feral beasts).

“Can I say, they remind me of Hermes, the messenger god,” he announced, thrilled to be back on his Mastermind subject. After all, Hermes was the god of shepherds. “And, boy, do they operate in a herd!” he jabbed.

Hermes was also the god of invention (“Do I need to say any more?” cried Prescott). “Best of all, Hermes was, and I quote, the god of cunning and liars. Enough said!”

The chamber was pandemonium now with MPs from all parties chanting: “More, more, more.” Prezza sat down, his face contorted in a way that made me think he was very close to tears.

The Prime Minister, who had just come in, patted his hunched shoulder.

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