Nice to see you, to see you – nice! I speak not of politicians but of Bruce Forsyth who was in the chamber yesterday, sitting in the side benches with his glamourpuss wife, Wilnelia. He was there, on some sort of a VIP ticket from the Conservatives, to see his first Prime Minister’s Questions.

Poor Brucie! First he had to put up with a starstruck Lembit Öpik, who is now the MP for Hello! magazine. Lembit, eyes rotating with excitement, sat in front of Brucie and kept turning round for a chat. I’m sure that Lembit, who is engaged to a Cheeky Girl, thinks he and Brucie are both showbiz personalities.

If that wasn’t bad enough Brucie then had to watch – and listen to – PMQs. For, as the M&S advert would say, this was not just any PMQs, this was a Gordon Brown relaunch PMQs.

Then, immediately after the weekly Punch and Judy show, Gordon treated us to his mini-Queen’s Speech statement. (Does that make it a Princess statement? I do hope so.) That’s one-and-a-half hours of G. Brown, which may be one-and-a-quarter hours too much. It was about as light on its feet as an episode of Strictly Come Dancing featuring elephants.

I suspect, since Brucie was the guest of the Tory MP Andrew Rosindale and had drinkypoos with Dave afterwards, that he may have been there to see Dave and not Gordon. The truth is that PMQs was, perhaps in sympathy with the Embryology Bill currently going through the Commons, a bit of a hybrid.

Dave was good, but not at his best. Gordon wasn’t too bad, which means that he was much better than normal. And Nick Clegg, well, the man was virtually hysterical as he screamed his question about the poor. It sounded almost comical (his voice, not the question) and Labour MPs, desperate to mock anyone, hooted, “Whooooooo!” What do they look like? I know it is politics but it ill behoves them to behave so appallingly on such a topic.

Questions over, the Prime Minister must have relaxed. The result? A disastrous mini-Queen’s Speech statement. He read it quickly and badly, his words running together until they were just one large mass or turgidity, a giant senseless amoeba-like cloud of inky blackness taking up space in the Chamber.

There was no pizzazz here. It was more of a regurgitation than a relaunch.

Gordon at his worst tends to bring out the best in Dave and so it was yesterday. The Tory leader was having a rollicking time, attacking Gordon for stealing his policies and for his U-turns. Dave shouted that Gordon should call the election now.

Dave gestured at little Hazel Blears, the Secretary of State for Communities, who immediately became all perky, cocking her head this way and that, like a chickadee. Did we know, cried Dave, about Hazel’s great idea for Gordon to star in a television programme for young politicians to be called Junior PM?

“I am not making this up!” cried Dave as Hazel preened and pursed her lips. “It was described as The Apprentice meets Maria meets Strictly Come Dancing!” This brought hoots of laughter though not, it must be said, from Brucie.

“Well why not take part in a reality show that involves the whole of the country?” he shouted. “It’s called a general election and wouldn’t it give everyone the chance to stand up in front of you and say, ‘You’re Fired!’.”

Tories shrieked at this. I wasn’t surprised when, soon afterwards, Brucie left. Somehow I don’t think he was thinking: “Didn’t they do well?”

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