The Prime Minister entered the Chamber yesterday with only seconds to spare. He looked an exhausted and tortured soul. Now that he has revealed to the world that he is Heathcliff, he is going to have to look exhausted and tortured all the time. Somehow I don’t think that will be a problem.

“I’m sure I speak for the whole country when I say we are pleased to see that Heathcliff has come home,” said David Cameron. Heathcliff, scribbling away like a madman, did not look up. Heathcliff doesn’t do eye contact and especially not with Dave who, if he were a literary character, would be something silly and twee like Little Lord Fauntleroy. Heathcliff seethed inwardly at the idea that they were even in the same chapter.

Heathcliff wanted to tell us all about his triumph at the G8. I have to say that this is a twist in the plot that Emily Brontë simply would not have allowed. But then Heathcliff is writing his own dialogue these days. He did not even begin with a tribute to his creator by saying: “I have just returned from a visit . . .” Why should he? Tortured souls don’t do tributes except, at least in this case, to themselves.

The PM had so many G8 triumphs that it would be impossible to recount them here. Heathcliff is now a global superstar. He is a titan and is fixing the oil crisis, food prices, global warming, the credit crunch and poverty. He is also reforming all major international institutions to save the world from disaster.

How very irritating, then, that Dave kept asking him about the British economy and his plans to increase vehicle excise duty. Heathcliff brooded as Dave rabbited on about this pygmy topic and Heathcliff’s sidekicks (yes, they still exist) starting chanting: “G8! G8!” at Little Lord Thingy.

But the Tories would not be dissuaded. Indeed, the best line of the day had come from Georgie “Porgie” Osborne (also a character though, tragically, from a nursery rhyme) who had demanded to know when the Government was going to do a U-turn. “Do we have to wait for Heathcliff to come down from Dithering Heights before they abandon this disastrous plan to tax families already feeling the squeeze?” he demanded to appreciative guffaws.

Andrew Mackay, the Tory who is scarily orange, demanded that the Prime Minister apologise for telling the Commons a month ago that most motorists would benefit from the proposal (new Treasury figures show that only one third will). Heathcliff sat and brooded on this question. He examined the word “apologise” as if it were a corpse. The more he thought about it, the more it enraged him. Of course he would not apologise. He was Heathcliff. He roared a bunch of words that can be summed up as: “Don’t insult me with your drivel.”

Nick Clegg, the Lib Dem leader, may be a bit jealous of the whole Heathcliff thing. Don’t forget, Mr Clegg sees himself as a bit of a romantic hero (30 lovers etc). “Since it is the day of laboured jokes about Heathcliff,” he said (speak for yourself Nick), “I hope you agree that the G8 should not die a death like Heathcliff, a man ranting and raving about a world that he could no longer understand or change.”

The PM was looking positively thunderous now. Somehow I don’t think this story is going to end happy ever after.

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