The preparation for Prime Minister’s Questions by Gordon Brown is said to have been intense. The night before, over dinner, it had been left to his wife, Sarah, to tell him that he would have to apologise in the Commons for the Government losing the details of 25 million people.

“Do I?” he said sulkily, looking down at his plate.

“Yes,” said Sarah firmly, glowing in her bright yellow pinny.

“But I’m setting up a review!” cried Gordon.

Gordon Brown's Black Wednesday

The Northern Rock disaster has torn away any remaining credibility the Prime Minister had

BACKGROUND

• Sorry story tests Gordon to the limit

• Gordon, how wonderful, wise and talented am I?

• Brown’s brain and his hand are not always connected

• How 'cruel' schooling scarred Brown

“That’s wonderful, dear, but that’s not enough,” she said, adopting the tone Supernanny uses with stubborn toddlers.

“But it’s not my fault!” he bellowed.

The Official Secrets Act precludes me from passing on further details except to say that Sarah won. Gordon approached his task (for he has never said “sorry” before in the Commons) with Presbyterian zeal. He tried to set up a working group and a citizens’ jury. Could this be an emergency? If so, he could call a meeting of his beloved Cobra! Sarah, now in a bright yellow nightie, eyed him wearily.

“No working group. No citizens’ jury. No Cobra,” she said. “Just practice, practice, practice.”

She cranked up the Downing Street gramophone and the voice of Elton John sang out: “Sorry seems to be the hardest word.” Gordon, practising the word “apologise” in the mirror, grimaced. What a mouthful: it was four syllables of total pain.

Sarah, in her bright yellow coat, wasn’t in the gallery but Gordon knew she’d be watching at home. There was no way out and so he got it out of the way immediately. “Mr Speaker,” he intoned, rushing his words. “I profoundly regret and apologise for the inconvenience and worries that have been caused.”

At the word “apologise”, the Tories shouted: “Ahhhhh!”

Gordon ignored them and soothed himself by telling us about his reviews, which by this time had grown to three.

David Cameron stood up. His goal was to make Gordon angry. “It’s all very well holding reviews but the Government has had ten years to sort this out,” he shouted.

Gordon, practising his new anger-management breathing technique, told us about his reviews again and quoted passages from the Manual of Protective Security before blaming the Opposition.

“Do you know what people want from their Prime Minister on a day like this?” demanded Dave, as lofty as a converted warehouse. “For him to stand up, show some broad shoulders, be the big man, take some responsibility.”

Gordon lunged to his feet. “I said right at the beginning,” he snapped. “I apologise for what has happened!”

But he didn’t sound apologetic now. He sounded petulant. And angry. And defensive. Dave immediately increased the voltage on his cattle prod by asking if Gordon would think again on ID cards. Gordon insisted that ID cards will be great because people will feel confident that their identity is being protected.

Tories screamed as Dave said it was “bizarre” and “weird” that the PM was still so keen on ID cards. This was too much for Gordon. He forgot about his anger management breathing technique. He forgot about his apology. He forgot about Elton John and that wretched song. All he could see was that Eton-educated Tory toff, standing there, taunting him about something that wasn’t his fault.

Gordon bellowed: “You talk about running things! Well for ten years the best economic policy in any part of Europe! For ten years the lowest inflation of any decade! The lowest interest rates of any decade! Something that you could never rival!”

I’m sorry but that’s not an apology, it’s a rant. Sarah, if still watching, will not be happy.

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