A glorious day in Westminster! The sun was shining, recess was approaching, and Boris Johnson was under police investigation. It could only have been improved by the knowledge that the former prime minister was being forced to handle the latest scandal from somewhere deeply inappropriate. And so it was with even greater delight that we learned Johnson is currently in Las Vegas, addressing… well, who knows who he’s addressing? We can be confident he doesn’t. Let’s just assume it’s the annual conference of the Association of Loan Sharks, Bail Bondsmen, Lap Dancers & Allied Trades.

Is it possible that Johnson’s “friends” are not quite as numerous as he’s led us to believe?

Could things get better? They could! Letters released by the never-starting Covid Inquiry revealed that Johnson has reached the “sacking his lawyers” stage of Everything Going Well. He’s now looking for different, better lawyers, ones who won’t feel so bound by all those pesky laws. He’s certainly in the right place to find some. There must be at least a couple in whatever establishment he’s occupying to pass the hours as you read this, and like other people there, they’ll do more or less anything if he waves a hundred dollar bill in their direction.

In the House of Commons chamber, Suella Braverman had arrived early for Prime Minister’s Questions, fresh from being told that she at least wouldn’t be facing an inquiry. She was looking cheery, wearing a white silk blouse with a multicoloured splash across it. You should dress to send a message, and the message here was “Screw you – I’ll be resigning when I’m good and ready to launch my next leadership challenge.”

All morning, people described by the press as “friends” of Johnson had been threatening to bring Rishi Sunak’s government to its knees if the prime minister didn’t immediately fix all the various inquiries. Meanwhile Downing Street was letting it be known that there had been no ministerial involvement in the decision to hand the latest evidence to the police. The Conservatives, once the party of law and order, are now issuing press statements to the effect that everyone in the Cabinet knows you never squeal to the Filth.

The prime minister walked in, though, to a big cheer from his own side. Is it possible that Johnson’s “friends” are not quite as numerous as he’s led us to believe? Can anyone see them except him? Thinking about it, just about the only excuse the former prime minister hasn’t tried is that the bad things in his government were all done by an imaginary companion. Perhaps his new lawyers will include that in their submission to the Covid Inquiry, just as soon as they’ve settled matters with a large man in the parking lot known only as “Knuckles”.

He was mad as hell, and he wasn’t going to take it any more

Sunak sat himself down next to Braverman, best friends again. Keir Starmer opened with questions on immigration numbers. Why, he wanted to know, were they going up, when the Conservatives had promised to get them down? The Tory benches were noisily outraged at this. Starmer, after all, had wanted to keep free movement with Europe. On the other hand, the numbers having only been going one way under this government, and it’s very much not the direction that was promised.

Lindsay Hoyle, the Speaker, told the backbenches to simmer down. But he tells them that every week, and they have learned to ignore it. That was going to prove to be a mistake. Starmer tried to speak again and then, to everyone’s surprise, Hoyle exploded. “Mr Bristow!” he yelled. Far down the chamber, the Tory MP Paul Bristow looked up, trying to remember if there were any other Bristows in Parliament. There aren’t. “I think you are going to be leaving,” Hoyle said, his voice low with menace. Bristow stared at him. Did he really mean it? Did he really mean him?

“I am asking you to leave now,” the Speaker said. No one could believe it. The teacher famous for ineffectually threatening detentions was finally delivering punishment. Bristow, stunned, still didn’t move. Labour MPs were squirming with silent delight. “I’m not having it, and I’ve warned you before,” Hoyle growled. “It’s the same people.”

Finally Bristow rose and began a long shuffle of shame along the bench and out of the chamber, occasionally looking back in horror, his face going through every shade of pink with embarrassment. His colleagues didn’t know where to look. The two MPs on either side of him, who had been yelling moments before, stared with deep concentration at pieces of paper in their laps. The opposition benches let out a loud cheer. “The same will happen on the other side of the House,” the Speaker snarled at them, and for the next 20 minutes or so, everyone acted like they believed it.

He was mad as hell, and he wasn’t going to take it any more. Up in the press gallery, we loved every moment of it. So long as he doesn’t come for us.