There was a corpse in the House of Lords yesterday, which caused a great deal of hubbub, not least from the public gallery. As the body lay before us, shouts of outrage ricocheted round the the beautiful golden chamber. “We want a referendum!” shouted one visitor. “What happened to our democracy?” cried another. Thank goodness they were bundled out, for the Lords can only take so much excitement. One death in one afternoon is quite enough.

It was a debate of morbid, if not macabre, fascination. The fact that it was a treaty and not a person that had died didn’t matter. A death is a death and so peers opened the coffin and gave the inert body a little prod. They dragged it out and hit it with those little hammers that doctors use on knees. They shone lights at it. It was like an autopsy though a posh one, taking place as it did on a table covered in red velvet.

My how the Tories loved the word “corpse”. Corpse this and corpse that. Of paramount interest was just how dead the corpse was after the Irish no vote. “I think it is right to say that most authorities do now recognise that the Treaty of Lisbon is and has to be technically dead,” noted Lord Howell of Guildford, aged 72, his rangy stooped frame leaning dangerously forward.

Technically dead. What does it mean? Surely dead is dead.

Apparently not. “One has to be realistic and realise that corpses can be resuscitated in certain circumstances and by certain ingenious devices,” announced Lord Howell. The phrase “corpses can be resuscitated” got a few nods from the benches though it could be they were just having pleasant dreams.

These devices included “explanatory protocols” and “political commitments”. Or there is a third idea which involved the disapplication (what can it mean?) of certain parts of the treaty which would not affect the treaty but would - somehow - become internationally binding in law. Yes, I know, it’s enough to make you want to die but this is how Eurocrats think: their goal, as I understand it, is to kill the English language.

The Tories felt it was only sensible, what with the Lisbon death being so very recent, that the Lords should delay ratification of the treaty. “It could be argued we are just in time to save this situation,” said Lord Howell as the red-haired red-faced Lord Kinnock spluttered in outrage on the Labour backbenches.

The debate stumbled on. Labour peers insisted the corpse was not dead, just sleeping very deeply. The Lib-Dem position seemed unclear (what a surprise) but they love the corpse deeply.

The crossbencher Lord Neill of Bladon, aged 81, was shaky in body but impressive with an eviscerating legal argument that seemed to prove that, legally if not technically, the corpse was indeed dead and therefore it shouldn’t be voted on. As he spoke, shouts of outrage rang out. Lord Neill, not even dropping a stitch, noted the last time he’d caused so much excitement was at a planning inquiry. “I was booed by the entire village!”

Soon there was more shouting. Peers didn’t seem to mind. Indeed, these episodes seemed to serve the same purpose as electric paddles in an emergency room for they jolted the entire Upper House into renewed life.

“This is unjust,” cried one angry young man. “I will not be silenced,” cried another, as he was.

Lord King of Bridgwater was more eloquent but not less pointed as he fulminated: “Are we dealing with a corpse? Are we meant to carry out the farce of a third reading on a corpse?” The answer was, of course, yes.

The farce of the third reading ended with a victory for the Government. The corpse did not stir.

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