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Prime minister’s questions is supposed to be fun – not an earnest, gentlemanly debate about Egypt or Afghanistan It was a shocking experience – the first nice prime minister’s questions I can recall. This was a huge disappointment for everyone in the public, press and peers’ gallery and for MPs themselves. Imagine that at the start of tomorrow night’s rugby match between Wales and England in Cardiff, before tens of thousands of excitedfans, there was a PA announcement on these lines: “Ladies and gentlemen, after long consideration and consultation, the Rugby Football Union has decided that having 30 grown men on a field kicking lumps out of each other, attempting to cripple their opponents on a permanent basis, and gouging people’s eyes out, is extremely dangerous and against every health and safety regulation the most crazed bureaucrat could dream up. For this reason, the result of tonight’s game will be decided by a debate between the teams, which you are welcome to listen to, if you wish. There will be no refunds. Thank you.” The place would go berserk. Cries of “Oh, I say, steady on!” would echo round the stands. Barbour jackets would be waved in anger. Hipflasks would rain upon the pitch. Likewise the Commons almost went mad this afternoon. The whole session – or at least the mini-debate between the PM and the Labour leader, which is the only part that counts – was conducted in a manner as calm and emollient as the weekend singalong at an old folks’ home. This is how bad it got. While David Cameron spoke, MPs were talking among themselves. Not barracking, not trying to score points, but chatting to each other because their private conversations were more interesting than anything he might be saying. All public speakers know, and dread, that experience. For a prime minister it is unheard of. I know people will argue that a serious question time is long overdue. Lines such as “I am most grateful for that reply”, “the whole House will be pleased by the prime minister’s answer, and share the view he has expressed,” and “I entirely agree”, which we heard today, are, we are told, what the public wants to hear. They want the kind of thoughtful discussions on Egypt and Afghanistan which we had yesterday. I wonder. Certainly Messrs Cameron and Miliband seemed very pleased with their own gentlemanliness. As the sound of MPs chuntering on about anything except Egypt and Afghanistan rumbled round them the Labour leader mused, “I sense that people are not used to this kind of prime minister’s questions.” Cameron agreed. “From the noises off, it is clear that people would prefer a bunfight, but sometimes it is sensible to have a serious conversation …” Yes, I thought, and you can have that in private any time you like. But PMQs is our weekly fun. Don’t spoil it. (I think he meant “food fight” or a “bear pit”. A bunfight is a tea party.) And, by the way, the bald patch was invisible for most of the session, but towards the end it peeped coyly out, just above and to one side of his right ear. David Cameron Ed Miliband Egypt Afghanistan Simon Hoggart guardian.co.uk