It was Sirallun’s big “you’re hired” moment. I can’t say the House of Lords as a whole was too thrilled about it. The Tories, in particular, looked rather queasy although, as it was after lunch, some of that could just have been indigestion.

The galleries were mobbed. It is not every day that a celebrity is made a peer; indeed, it may not be any day but this. Sirallun may turn out to be our most famous peer ever. Of course, there are quite a few infamous ones.

Many are outraged about the clash of roles between being the star of The Apprentice and Gordon Brown’s “enterprise czar”. Sirallun says he’s neutral, but others think he’s labouring the point.

The chamber looked beautiful. The fairytale throne was gleaming, the candelabras towering, the benches glowing red. I could see that the Tory benches were emptier than usual. On the Labour side, Lord Levy, not seen so often in this place since all that hoo-ha over peerages, was clambering over others in his anxiety to get the best vantage point to see his friend.

A hush fell over the chamber. First came Black Rod. Then a man known as Garter King of Arms, whose entire upper body is encased in an extraordinary heraldic tabard that made him look like a posh and rather chunky playing card. Then in tripped Sirallun, shorter and slighter than expected, his head sleek (he’d had a haircut) and his stubble so short that it was hardly a five o’clock shadow.

“Greetings!” said a man in a periwig, who began to read out a scroll from the Queen. Sirallun stood next to him, ermine fluffy, robe gently swaying. Directly behind him sat three grim-lipped Tories. As Mr Periwig told us about “our trusty and beloved” Sir Alan Michael Sugar, one Tory slumped forward into what looked like the emergency brace position onboard an aeroplane.

His title was read out: Baron Sugar, of Clapton, in the London Borough of Hackney. The man in the brace position struggled back into an upright posture.

Why Clapton? “I struck my first business deals on the streets of Clapton as a 12-year-old boy by collecting lemonade bottles for the 1p deposits,” he explained afterwards, “and sitting on the main road asking for a penny for the guy.” It was a rag-to-riches story, and a sentimental choice. Lucky old Clapton!

Lord Sugarpuff, as he will surely become known, was accompanied by two supporters, Lady Vadera and Lord Davies of Abersoch. Both work for Lord Mandelson, the dark über-baron and ruler of all. The fact that both of his “supporters” are on the government payroll is considered suspect. Doesn’t he have any other friends who are not being paid to be there? I think we know the answer. I wonder who his “supporters” will be on his updated coat of arms? Apparently, and incredibly, instead of unicorns he could pick Nick and Margaret from The Apprentice.

Now Sirallun — it will take me a while to stop saying that — read out his oath from the plastic placemat on the dispatch box. His eyes flicked up only once towards the Labour benches. The deed had been done!

He bowed his head to the Lord Speaker and processed over to shake her hand. The cheers that followed were distinctly muted and noticeably short. It was more like a momentary bark then anything that could remotely be described as full-bodied. Indeed I didn’t see even one Tory mouth open, not even to breathe. The Lords love pomp and circumstance but this was more like pomp and circumspect.

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