Pity the minister who decides to defend the Government. They’ll usually end up not just marching down the hill like the Grand Old Duke of York’s men, but entirely abandoned, behind enemy lines and starved of reinforcements.

On Thursday, the General Custer role fell to Nadhim Zahawi. On the morning media round, the Education Secretary had supported the Government’s planned wrecking amendment and accused Labour of indulging in “petty politics”. 

Then, in time-honoured fashion, moments before the Commons debate, Number 10 performed a screeching U-turn and withdrew its amendment, leaving Mr Zahawi’s already ovate forehead looking even more egg-splattered than usual.

The conditions, however, provided the perfect battleground for Sir Keir Starmer. With the Prime Minister touring India, the Tory front row had overwhelmingly recruited from the substitutes bench; a glum-looking Chief Whip was there, flanked by junior ministers aplenty and Michael Ellis, the PM’s Paymaster General-meets-burly Praetorian Guardsman, ever-present when the Government is in real trouble. 

Though Sir Keir began with an own goal, a brief apology for misleading the House at PMQs that week, thereafter he seemed in his element, employing his favourite combo of due process and high seriousness as he fulminated against the PM’s myriad sins.

Keen to inspire some unity in the Commons, the Labour leader maintained a veneer of extreme politeness even with unlikely fellow travellers. He laid a plaintive hand on his heart when addressing Bill Cash, the ERG stalwart. 

There was even a gushing “Thank you” for Sir Edward Leigh, who had called for a respectful debate – though when John McDonnell, of “Lynch Esther McVey” fame, backed up this plea for moderate language, it triggered the biggest laugh of the afternoon.

Absolution or condemnation?

Religion in Parliament is having a bit of a moment – the Archbishop of Canterbury played a starring role on Wednesday – but few could have predicted just how quickly things would take a theological turn. On the question of whether the Prime Minister deserved forgiveness, the Commons morphed into a mini Barchester Towers, with competing schools of religious thought battling it out.

Chris Bryant, a former vicar, joked that he might be considered the only MP qualified to give absolution. Evangelical Steve Baker interrupted Ian Blackford, the SNP’s spokesman, who had been chastising the PM for insulting the Archbishop. 

“He’s a brother in Christ, does he not believe in redemption?” said Mr Baker, of Mr Blackford, triggering groans from the SNP corner. “He needs a contrite heart!” yelled Martin Docherty-Hughes, the SNP MP.

“Before you can have Christian forgiveness, you must first have confession followed by contrition. We’ve had neither!” squawked Emma Hardy of Labour, like a latter-day Mrs Proudie.

Sometimes, politics can feel a bit of a religion-free zone – think MPs sending out “Happy Easter” tweets on Good Friday – so it’s good to know that at least some in the House knew what Christian Forgiveness was (as opposed to the name of that chap from Bury South who defected to Labour recently).

By the time Mr Baker launched into his floor speech, he was chucking Biblical quotes around like firecrackers. 

“I don’t feel much like forgiving [the PM],” he said. “I feel much more Ezekiel 7:3 [“The end is now upon you, and I will unleash my anger against you”].” 

On the matter of repeated offenders, he urged Stella Creasy to consult Romans 7.

‘The gig is up for the Prime Minister’

Then came the most devastating takedown of the afternoon. On Tuesday, Mr Baker had spoken of mercy and redemption. He had been ready to forgive the PM, he said – but couldn’t get past the “orgy of adulation” at the 1922 committee afterwards.

“The Prime Minister should be long gone. He should know that the gig’s up,” he concluded. Labour’s motion passed on a nod.

As ever, friendly fire and unforced errors had damned the Tories more comprehensively than all assaults of their enemies. And secondly, why couldn’t we have a few more Bible quotations in the Commons? 

The possibilities are endless – instead of bashing Sir Keir as an Islington silk, the PM could try deploying a good old-fashioned Jeremiad: “Woe unto you also, ye lawyers!”

Meanwhile, the Government’s plight could best be summed up by the Bible’s shortest verse of all: “Jesus wept.”