Sadiq Khan was in the chamber to hear how it came to be that he had been bugged. He sat, arms crossed, legs crossed, face cross, on the end of the front bench with another whip. By tradition whips do not speak in the House and so he stayed silent, occasionally chewing his lip. I am not sure Mr Khan can win: when he speaks he is bugged; but when others speak about his bugging he cannot speak. Does this bug him?

Occasionally Mr Khan would whisper something to another whip. I rather hoped that he was being bugged, for it is the only way that we will know what he thinks.

Everything about this statement was suspect. It was entitled “Inquiry HMP Woodhill” as if the location of the bugging were the main issue. It was given not by the Home Secretary but by Jack Straw. He had some reason for this but, basically, I think he pulled rank. And my, he is getting pompous. Perhaps that is what happens when you are the Lord High Chancellor. I understand that he plans to add Pooh-Bah to his title as, in so many ways, he sees himself in the tradition of Pooh-Bah, the Lord High Everything Else, in Gilbert & Sullivan’s The Mikado.

We learnt a great deal and absolutely nothing at the same time. Sadly, almost none of it was pertinent to Mr Khan’s case. Instead Pooh-Bah gave us, in labyrinthian detail, the bluffer’s guide to bugging in Britain. Basically, there are three regimes, three commissioners, three systems. Much effort has gone into creating a system in which no one can be blamed for anything. Thus it proved to be. For Pooh-Bah could tell us nothing about Mr Khan’s case except one thing: it was not Pooh-Bah’s fault. This was a police operation and, he said triumphantly, “ministers play no part in these authorisations”. Pooh-Bah, having made that clear, reverted to his “I know nothing” refrain and said that he was setting up an inquiry.

Richard Shepherd is a Tory who cares so deeply that he always seems almost tearful. “Bah Humbug to you, Pooh-Bah! Why don’t you know?” he asked. OK, his actual words were: “Surely it is possible to ascertain, between Saturday and Monday, whether someone has been bugged and the authorisation given for the bugging?”

Mr Straw was saddened. Didn’t they know that his job was not to seek answers? The Great Glorious Head Pooh-Bah, the Prime Minister, had made it clear that the Government didn’t want answers, only inquiries – with great speed.

Mr Khan watched, eyes darting, his face giving little away. MPs were divided into those who were proud to have been bugged (Dennis Skinner, during the miner’s strike) and those like Sarah Teather, the tiny Lib-Dem, who were afraid that they might have been. Could Pooh-Bah assure her that conversations with constituents were confidential? The answer could have been written by W. S. Gilbert himself: “It is always a logical impossibility to prove a negative.”

The entire nonsituation situation was summed up, quite brilliantly, by the Tory Douglas Hogg. “It seems that something has happened that shouldn’t have happened,” he announced. “That being so, there is a risk that other things that shouldn’t have happened, might have happened.” Pooh-Bah looked thrilled. Finally, someone was speaking his language and he sang back a suitably nonsensical reply.

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