"Boris bounded along, wearing his dappiest cocker spaniel smile. He turned to his opponent, his beady eyes oozing like ramekins of oeuf en gelee, and muttered what we must assume were a few cheery bon mots."
"Corbyn's reaction? Stony silence. That whiskery face simply stared ahead, his hooded peepers as fierce and intense as a murderous cyborg. And with that, away he zoomed, putting as much distance between himself and the Prime Minister as possible. What a sad, sour little man he is."
"Lovely Tracey Crouch (Con, Chatham and Aylesford) was a hoot. At one point she compared a miserable looking Corbyn to Old Marley, the tormented ghost from Dickens' A Christmas Carol. 'Smile Jeremy, it won't kill you!' yelled a Tory heckler. She was seconded by Eddie Hughes (Con, Walsall North) a cheeky, 'cor blimey, governor' sort of character you used to find in Ealing comedies"
"When Corbyn rose, he had nothing left in the tank. Zilch. Detuned radios are more fun to listen to than him. He played those tried and failed cards about the evil Tories who planned to sell off the NHS so firmly rejected by voters last week.
From behind, there came not a single cheer or murmur of support. Having stood up to groans, he stood down to absolute silence.
Poor Jezza. He's now back to being that lonely, stranded figure he was on the backbenches, ranting in his Cornish pasty shoes against anyone and everything, an object of derision to opposition parties and an embarrassment to his own.
Boris, acknowledging this was likely to be one of his and Corbyn's final exchanges at the dispatch box ('alas!') naturally killed his opponent with kindness.
He described Corbyn as a man of deeply held convictions whose 'sincerity was to be admired'. Cue generous 'yer, yers' from the government benches. As I say, two very different creatures."
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"You could have carved the atmosphere on Labour’s front bench with a busted teaspoon.
Never had there been such a sullen heap of corpses. Each propped up in silence, alone, awkwardly trapped in pained thought like patients in a dentist’s waiting room.
Dawn Butler (Lab, Brent Central) was particularly sulky. John McDonnell, still that same ashen grey as he was when interviewed in the minutes following last Thursday’s exit poll, masticated furiously on something. Wasps, perhaps? Certainly not humble pie.
As for Jeremy Corbyn, he was a shell. When the down-but-not-yet-out Labour leader eventually stood to speak, there were a few sarcastic cheers from the Government side but from his own benches? Nada.
I half-expected knots of tumbleweed to start cartwheeling through the chamber.
By contrast, an almighty roar greeted Boris Johnson at the dispatch box.
With a whopping great Blue Wall of 365 MPs perched behind him, they issued a cry so thumping that I think the chandeliers started swaying. Whoooomph! Passers-by outside in Whitehall might have wondered if Godzilla had just woken from a deep slumber.
The new House had assembled for the first time and predictably it was party mood on the Government benches. At least for those able to nab a seat. For MPs were packed in tighter than tinned anchovies. Even po-faced Theresa May was breaking out into belly laughs.
As for the Prime Minister, he seemed unable to wipe a satisfied smirk from his face. Cockier than Muhammad Ali mid-shuffle."
Peering around the chamber, he announced proudly: ‘I mean absolutely no disrespect to those who are no longer with us but I think this Parliament is a vast improvement on its predecessor.’ From his benches, yet more cheers of approval. At last, a party united. No Grieve. No Letwin. No more bloody John Bercow spoiling the stew.
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"HENRY DEEDES Boris Johnson pegged it out of the Commons chamber on Friday. You barely saw the PM for dust. I don't think I've seen him move so fast since he was pushed for a quick single once in a cricket match.
It was a few minutes shy of 3pm and MPs had just backed his Brexit Withdrawal Agreement Bill – 1,274 days, 16 hours and roughly 42 minutes since the referendum result was announced on that balmy June morning back in 2016.
At last, a deal had been passed! Some of us half hoped the PM would respond with a little victory jig at the Despatch Box. But no sooner was the result announced than whooooooosh!
That unmistakable mass of white blond hair was out the door quicker than a motorised hare at a greyhound track. And so it is finally done. On January 31, the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland will leave the European Union
