EVER since Sir Menzies Campbell became acting leader of the Liberal Democrats, we have been reminded of his Olympic past. We keep seeing that film of him racing round the track in 1064 (OK, so he’s not that old and it was 1964). The impression is that of a fierce competitor.

Around Westminster, his new nickname was Ming the Merciless and I don’t think he minded one little bit.

For PMQs, Sir Merciless had on smart black loafers instead of running shoes, but he still walked in with a winner’s swagger. His hands were shaking as he stood up to ask his first question. Labour MPs made fun of this by holding out their hands and vibrating them.

But as every athlete knows, if you aren’t nervous before the big race, then you aren’t ready.

Then he opened his mouth. In retrospect, that was a mistake, though admittedly hard to avoid. Very soon after this, things went wrong. It was as if one moment he was racing along and then, whoops, he tripped and found himself somersaulting through the air like an out-of-control duck. Without warning, his soundtrack had jumped from Chariots of Fire to Chariots of Dire.

It would have been painful to watch if it weren’t so funny. His first question on public services was demolished by Tony Blair. Ming, watching from his seat, gulped a glass of water.

“Vodka!” shouted a Labour MP. It was a post-Kennedy moment, for no glass of anything has been allowed near that front bench in years.

Ming jumped up again. “Perhaps the Prime Minister would like to explain,” he huffed, “why it is that one in five schools does not have a permanent head teacher?” “What about a permanent leader?!” cried a Labour MP.

The Chamber erupted. Everyone was laughing but Ming, who was as stony faced as a cliff of granite. Finally Mr Blair cried: “As he knows, it can be difficult to find the head of an organisation when the post is vacant, particularly if it is a failing organisation!”

Ming looked more and more uncomfortable as the hysteria grew. Finally he affected a sort of “aw shucks” shrug and said: “Mr Speaker, I just knew it was going to be one of those days.”

How lame was that? Of course it was going to be one of those days. It was HIS day and he had been waiting for it for yonks. It would have taken his team hours to come up with that obviously ridiculous question. Ming the Merciless was rebranded Ming the Massacred though, as it was self-inflicted, perhaps that should have been Campbell the Car Crash.

The man sitting next to Sir Massacred was the loquacious Simon Hughes. He also wants to be leader and so may have been pleased at how badly things had gone. (Those Lib-Dems are nice, aren’t they?) By happenstance, he had been chosen to ask a question and we knew it would not be short, for his never are. The moment he stood up MPs shouted: “Too long” and “that’s enough”. As he droned on, someone shouted “next!”, then “next leader! ”.

Mr Blair made quick work of him and then, licking his lips, cried: “There’s no end to the Liberal Democrat careers I could sacrifice this afternoon!” But there was, for the other contender Mark Oaten was in a TV studio (of course) and so the sport had to end. Sir Massacred limped out of the stadium, but he will be back and, we must assume, better prepared.

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