Breathless stuff. Defence Secretary John Healey dashed to the Commons to give a lunchtime statement about Russian spy ship Yantar, tonnage undisclosed, interfering ‘in our waters’.
Now there’s an expression to make ageing gents cross their legs.
From Mr Healey’s panting – he was so short of puff, he could barely speak for a minute – things sounded urgent.
Only later did we learn he had expected the previous business in the House to last longer and had therefore been obliged to sprint for the despatch box because he was late. ‘Beginners on stage, please!’ as theatre dressers say.
The military news was certainly thrilling enough to quicken anyone’s pulse. It made up for a PMQs that had been as calm as a bath.
Mr Healey reported that the frigate Somerset, minesweeper Cattistock, patrol vessel Tyne and Royal Fleet Auxiliary Proteus, which is stuffed to the gunwales with frogmen, had steamed to intercept the Russkies.
Spy ship Yantar was ‘loitering’ over important internet cables on the seabed. Loitering, eh? One imagined Yantar with hands in pockets, a smirk on its funnel.
Still gasping a little, Mr Healey told an under-attended Commons that he had authorised one of our submarines to surface next to Yantar to show sly Ivan we were on to his tricks. The spy ship was later seen near the coast of Holland, Rotterdam being so charming at this time of year.
Breathless stuff. Defence Secretary John Healey dashed to the Commons to give a lunchtime statement about Russian spy ship Yantar, tonnage undisclosed, interfering ‘in our waters’
Healey addressed remarks directly to a certain Putin, telling the Russian leader: ‘We see you, we know what you’re doing and we will not shy away from robust action to defend this country.’
Royal Navy of HMS Somerset flanking Russian ship Yantar near UK waters. The military news was certainly thrilling enough to quicken anyone’s pulse. It made up for a PMQs that had been as calm as a bath
Martially minded MPs love talking about ‘waters’, be they ‘international waters’, ‘Dutch waters’ or ‘European waters’ (Evian, San Pellegrino?). Saltiness tangs the Commons air at such moments.
It was almost a surprise that when shadow defence minister James Cartlidge responded supportively to Mr Healey he did not hand him a warming mug, saying ‘cocoa, skipper’. Mr Cartlidge called the intrusion ‘a grey zone threat’.
Cap’n Healey squinted at the yardarm, blinding sunbeams bouncing off his bald pate. He addressed remarks directly to a certain V. Putin, telling the Russian leader: ‘We see you, we know what you’re doing and we will not shy away from robust action to defend this country.’
Haul up the swivel guns, Hornblower, and aim for their futtocks. I said futtocks, you fool. This is ‘The Cruel Sea’, not a Carry On film.
The minister’s machismo made your sketch writer’s bent spine tingle. I nearly pulled out my hanky and gave a gallery-to-deck wave as HMS Healey sailed off to war.
Gosport’s Dame Caroline Dinenage, the forces’ favourite (retd.), had dressed for the occasion by wearing a midshipman’s buttons. The old girl looked a little windblown but with such a political breeze up, who could blame her?
Andrew Murrison (Con, SW Wilts) was so impressed by Mr Healey that he actually stood to attention while asking a question. How this pugnacious secretary of state has managed to bite his tongue about the Starmer government’s plan to surrender the Chagos Islands, one can not fathom.
When civil servants prepare placements for Cabinet meetings they presumably make sure Cap’n Healey is seated nowhere near that antiseptic shriveller Lord Hermer, attorney-general and barrister to Gerry Adams.
The Lib Dems’ frontbencher, Helen Maguire (pictured), arrived four minutes late. Ms Maguire was once in the military police. Aren’t they meant to be sticklers for punctuality?
From Mr Healey’s panting – he was so short of puff, he could barely speak for a minute – things sounded urgent
The Lib Dems’ frontbencher, Helen Maguire, arrived four minutes late. Ms Maguire was once in the military police. Aren’t they meant to be sticklers for punctuality?
PMQs, too, was infested by Lib Dems. Gawd, they’re dreary. Tory backbenchers boinged to their feet largely in vain. Instead Speaker Hoyle kept calling MPs from the chamber’s very own ‘grey zone’, i.e. where Sir Ed Davey’s drips sit, that redoubt of hand-wringers, high-tax nutters, eco-munchers and MPs called Wendy and Helen. And that’s just the blokes. Sir Keir Starmer loves the Lib Dems.
They love him and his government right back. High taxes? Net Zero? More EU? A bigger state? Yes please, sir! Lovey-doveykins. Big hugs.
Labour MPs gaze at the Libs with ennui and they yawn. Only the Tories, and Reform, if they turn up, really get them snorting. What is the point of Parliament if it doesn’t give the nostrils a good whoosh-through of outrage?
