Ed Miliband had an open goal today. And he whacked it straight over the bar. Cameron was
in trouble from the start. Having placated the rebel wing of his party with vague talk about ‘repatriating powers’ he is now expected to deliver. But he can’t make specific
demands without weakening his hand at the negotiations so he has to talk in generalities. The Labour leader spotted this weakness and tried to exploit it with one of his lethally brief questions.
‘What powers would the Prime Minister repatriate?’ Cameron gave several answers without addressing the issue. His aim in the negotiations, he said, was to resolve the eurozone crisis, ‘and that means countries coming together and doing more things together.’ Both his manner and his phrasing seemed feeble and unconvincing. ‘The more that countries in the eurozone ask for,’ he went on, frowning hard, as if recalling some abstruse logical proof, ‘the more we will ask for in return,’
Miliband mocked Cameron’s vagueness. ‘The more he talks the more confusing his position is.’ And he flung Cameron’s promises in his face. ‘He told backbenchers that treaty change would mean repatriation of powers.’ Which ones?
Cameron now seemed in grave trouble. He recited an irrelevant litany of statistics about the pre-eminence of our banking sector and he threw out a perfunctory accusation that Labour gave up ‘power after power to Brussels.’ But he seemed flustered, evasive, inarticulate and – a rarity for him – visibly uncomfortable. At times he looked like a man on the edge of a cliff. A teeny nudge would topple him into the abyss. But Ed Miliband, the arch-bungler, decided to rescue his victim instead of pushing him over. Miliband always comes to PMQs having spent the morning at the Chuckle Club with his script-doctors and gag-meisters. Today they decided to call Cameron a politician who promises ‘a handbagging’ in Brussels but delivers ‘a hand-wringing’. And when Ed delivered this great quip it worked wonders. For Cameron. It completely transformed his demeanour.
‘Even the best scripted line about hand-bagging won’t save his leadership,’ mocked the PM with a sunny smile. His backbenches roared their approval. And Miliband then delivered the gravest blunder of his career. He remained seated. Moments earlier, the Prime Minister had been struggling like a beginner at the despatch box, yet Miliband failed to spot that he had a chance to do career-threatening damage. His inaction let the PM escape. And when he resumed his questions he dropped Europe altogether and berated the PM for postponing the implementation of a luxury jet tax. Cameron, who is nothing if not a slick-witted smart alec, released an instant slap-down. ‘They had 13 years to tax private jets. Former leaders of their party are jetting around the world in them!’ he jeered. And again his MPs howled with laugher.
Tip to Ed. If the Tories are enjoying your questions they’re probably the wrong questions. His backbenchers picked up Miliband’s toff-bashing theme and mounted a co-ordinated, personal attack on Cameron. They accused him of mugging pensioners, of nobbling working mums, of snatching cash from the helpless and being mean to babies. Cameron enjoyed it. He answered robustly that it does the poor no good ‘to be saddled with debt to the end of their days’.
Labour’s attack was skilfully orchestrated and entirely misguided. It’s obvious that millions of voters detest Cameron and regard him as a sexist toff. What’s less clear is why Labour spends so much energy mobilising this sentiment. Chaps, think about it. The Cameron-haters aren’t going to vote for Cameron anyway. But the ‘top hat’ tactic deters the floating voters who have no relish for the comfort-food politics of gender prejudice and class-war.
At the close, came the question every spectator had been hoping for and which no member of a mainstream party had had the guts to ask. Would the people get a referendum on a new EU treaty? asked Nigel Dodds of the DUP. Cameron had clearly expected the question sooner, and he set about blustering with practised ease. ‘We passed a law,’ he swanked elegantly, ‘which guarantees that if any future government tries to pass powers from Westminster to Brussels it must ask the people first.’
Right-oh Dave. But what’s the answer? We don’t know. But I think we can translate. ‘Fat chance.’
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