Toby Neal on politics fit for a Groucho quip

As Groucho Marx might have said.

The bit I really enjoyed was when the Tory speakers got up in the Commons to plead that in this matter MPs should not be partisan along party political lines, although perhaps they missed the irony, having all been instructed en bloc to vote a certain way – because they are Tories.

And if it was not a party political vote, it is distinctly odd that a Tory parliamentary private secretary, who dared to abstain on something to which she felt in all conscience she could not lend her support, was promptly sacked.

Those Tory speakers in the debate maintained that it was purely coincidental that Owen Paterson, the (soon former) member for North Shropshire, is a Conservative.

There has been no shortage in the standards of hyperbole. It's like being in Russia says Chris Bryant, who chairs the standards committee. Well yes, a system of justice which has no mechanism to allow an appeal against conviction is like Russia, I imagine (not being an expert on the Russian judicial system), although this was not the comparison he was making.

Sir Keir Starmer said Boris Johnson had led the Tories through the sewer. He was not saying that as praise for the Prime Minister's leadership capabilities.

Anyway, Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall, Humpty Dumpty had a pratfall. The Grand Old Duke of York marched them down the hill again. Even Moggy realised that revamping the standards procedure was a non-starter in the face of a boycott by Labour and the Scottish Myopics. Without cross-party agreement no alternative system would have credibility.

They are saying it's a low point which has damaged the reputation of Parliament. But isn't it all a bit in-House? It's important to the self-important and self-obsessed, and to London-based media for whom it's a nice easy one on the doorstep.

But if you want a low point, you don't have to go back far, to the John Bercow reign of terror, which not only damaged the reputation of Parliament but threatened to destroy public faith in the workings of British democracy.

As for individual examples of egregious behaviour, and I say egregious because it seems to be in the in-word nowadays even though I always thought it meant "remarkably good" and am actually right because it turns out that it is derived from the Latin word egregius, meaning "distinguished" or "eminent," we could start with George Brown, the 1960s Deputy Prime Minister and Foreign Secretary, who was so drunk at one function in South America that, according to a widely believed rumour, he is said to have staggered up to a befrocked figure to ask for a dance, only to meet with a polite refusal, the explanation being: "Mr Brown, I am the Cardinal Archbishop of Lima."

On Mr Paterson, I shall not dwell, as he's had enough personal tragedy. Rather than taking a walk of shame to the sin bin he had the temerity vehemently to protest his innocence, arguing not only with the referee but saying the rules of the game are fundamentally unjust.

After this week's political heat has subsided, perhaps MPs might calmly reflect on whether a system that does not seem to have adequately accounted for such an eventuality is really fit for purpose.

One of the arts of journalism is to save valuable space by condensing the message, so as I passed a fishmonger the other day bearing the sign "Fresh Fish Sold Here" I decided to offer my unique skills of paraphraseology.

"You don't have to say 'here,'" I advised, "because it's obvious it's here – everybody can see it." The fishmonger duly removed "Here" from the sign.

"And you wouldn't sell it if it wasn't fresh, would you?" Down came "Fresh."

"Nobody would think for a moment that you're giving it away either, so you don't need to say you're selling it." "Sold" is removed, leaving a sign just saying "Fish." But even now I was able to help.

"No need for that – people can smell it for miles."

Job done.