THE first engagement in the “Commons World Cup Fantasy Madness” tournament took place yesterday in the chamber of the House of Commons. The tournament, which is expected to last all week, or until something happens in the real world, involves mentioning the World Cup as often as possible.

Yesterday began as a close battle between Tory and Labour MPs but ended with a shock winner. But then the Lib Dems, under Ming “No Zing” Campbell, were always going to be contenders in any game involving fantasy and madness.

The rules of the game are not straightforward, for this is, let us remember, the Commons. No one gets any points at all for asking a direct question about the World Cup. How dull would that be? Instead, MPs score points for sideways references. The more obscure the reference, the more points are awarded. The maximum score is achieved if no one knows what is being talked about at all and the topic is unrelated in every possible way.

Labour took an early lead by getting in a reference when supposedly discussing the new licensing laws. “Coming up are the combination of light nights and World Cup fever, which could well be the supreme test of the new licensing laws,” chortled Adrian Bailey, an MP who is usually almost invisible.

Tessa Jowell, the Culture, Media and Sport Secretary, lives in fear of being sent off and is therefore way too cautious at all times. But no one can deny that she remains world-class when it comes to non-answering. There would be, she announced, a “nationwide programme of policing and enforcement” for the World Cup. What does that mean? Isn’t there always such a thing? Pubs, she said gravely, were conducting “risk assessments”. This sounds a grand way to describe a chat over the bar. The result, she said, was that glasses may not be allowed outside.

The chamber waited. Was that it? Apparently so, for Ms Jowell sat down looking contented. For had she not just announced a national glassware strategy to stop the drunken hordes? When in doubt, this Government is not afraid to invoke plastic picnic utensils.

Later the Tories tried to take back the lead by talking about musicians. “Won’t the public think it is BARMY and typical of this INCOMPETENT Government that a pub needs a licence for one or two musicians in a bar but does not need one to show World Cup matches to hundreds of inebriated supporters?” demanded Malcolm Moss, a Tory normally too unfit to play.

Despite Mr Moss’s spectacular word emphasis, Labour was still ahead. But then up popped the Lib Dem Bob Russell, who wanted the Government to back English folk dancing. David Lammy, the Minister for Not Very Much, said that funding for this had quadrupled, but he never said what it had quadrupled from. Mr Russell shook his cartoon white fringe in outrage. The Arts Council was guilty of “artistic cleansing” of England’s working-class folk dance! The chamber came alive at this accusation. MPs started to shout “Morris dancing!” and “Song and dance man!”

Then Mr Russell, in a completely unexpected manoeuvre, snuck in his reference. He said that as English pride reaches a climax with World Cup, it was obvious that the Government should spend more money on folk dance and less on contemporary Latin American art. He said that the people of Colchester were furious about it.

Mr Lammy tried to claw his way back but, truly, it was all over. The Liberal Democrats were ecstatic and, when last seen, were celebrating by “Doing the Crouch”, although in traditional form.

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