When MPs gather in committee on Tuesday they will be unable to contain all the built-up frustrated narcissism, the bloviated self-importance, the caustic self-interest and the barbs of rock-bottom public opinion; they will expose themselves as snarling, vicious, hateful, splenetic and spiteful bullies. If Heston Blumenthal applied his Nitrogen cylinder to human faeces to produce a frothing turd mousse of righteous indignation, the result would be indistinguishable from a committee-member MP next week. Their faces will bloat and empurple, veins will throb, sebaceous glands will drip grease from their lank locks, spittle froth will coat their lips and their pudgy little fists will clench as tightly as if holding an expenses form. These, readers, are our elected members.
Before them in this kangaroo court will sit an 80 year-old man, looking slightly shrunken inside his clothes as do all the old, the liver spots visible on his balding head, his frail hands perhaps trembling slightly. He will be utterly contrite, apologetic and genuinely remorseful. He will be cowed, and the offensive and cruel aggression of his interrogators will make him flinch visibly at times. Still, he will exhibit virtuous behaviour; he will endure with courage and fortitude, he will not rise to the bait, and he will take all the painful blows from his tormentors with guts and stoicism.
All of this will be recorded and broadcast in high definition video.
Guess who I think will come out of this better?