The words just wouldn’t come. On Monday, Theresa May had tried to find a way of paying tribute to David Cameron but had managed to come up with little more than: “He was OK if you like that kind of thing, I suppose.” The spirit was willing but the mouth was weak. At prime minister’s questions, she had another go. “I’d like to pay tribute to David Cameron by dismantling what little he did get right as quickly as possible,” she began. May sensed she might have been able to phrase this a little better and looked up towards her advisers in the gallery for reassurance. The message that came back was a frantic hand gesture across the throat. Cut your losses. Quit while you’re no further behind.

Corbyn lambasts May on grammar schools in boisterous PMQs Read more

Freed from the performance anxiety of having to be nice about her predecessor, May was at last able to give Dave the send-off he would have wanted. In politics there are few greater moments of triumph than seeing your successor screw up. Schadenfreude conquers all, and May crashed and burned on the grandest of stages. In her first PMQs earlier in the summer, Tory backbenchers had been able to delude themselves that they had got themselves a mini-Maggie. This time they got to see May Unplugged - brittle, lacking in humour and unable to think on her feet as one of her key policies was dismantled in front of her eyes. Dave had come up with some bad ideas in his time, but he was never inept enough to let Jeremy Corbyn take them apart at the dispatch box.

It wasn’t even as if the Labour leader had needed to be on top form. Competent was more than enough to get the job done. “I’d like to congratulate the prime minister on managing to unite Ofsted, the teaching unions and education secretaries on both sides of the house with her plans to introduce more grammar schools,” he began. “Can she name any experts who think this is a good idea?”

PMQs verdict: Corbyn tests May on grammar schools Read more

Theresa couldn’t, and tried to steer the argument on to faith schools. For once, Corbyn didn’t allow himself to be distracted and got stuck in. “So you don’t have any experts to support you,” he said. “Well let me quote a few more experts who don’t, starting with the Institute of Fiscal Studies.” By now, May was looking badly rattled. She glanced behind her for encouragement, but no Tory backbencher would catch her eye. Her grammar school proposals are almost as unpopular with her own party as they are with the opposition.

“Well, I went to grammar school and you went to grammar school so they must be a good idea, right?” she said. Tory heads went even further down. When the personal is the only defence for a public policy, the game is up. You might as well dismantle the NHS and replace it with homeopathy on the grounds that the health secretary had once got rid of a headache by taking some Nux Vomica. Corbyn ignored this and reminded her that even David Cameron had been bright enough to realise grammars were a no-no.

May panicked and grabbed a greater loss from the jaws of defeat. “Why haven’t you asked me about the employment figures?” she said. “They’re actually not as bad as expected.” Corbyn merely shrugged. A prime minister suggesting the questions she would like to be asked is a sure sign of failure. “Well anyway,” she continued, sounding ever more desperate. “You’re not going to be here for another PMQs because you’re going to lose the Labour leadership election.”

At which point the examiners asked for May’s 11-plus maths paper to be re-marked. The Labour leader might not be able to win a general election, but he is the odds-on favourite to retain his post. Which bit of a two-thirds majority did Theresa not understand? Corbyn smiled, confident in his percentages. He’d be back in October all right and he’d carry on pressing her on grammar schools for as long as she chose to pursue them. It was the easiest win in town for him.

May continued to struggle when Angus Robertson brought up Brexit. Telling the Commons she isn’t going to give a running commentary on the running commentary she isn’t giving about the government’s lack of progress is ultimately unsustainable. Caught between the near-impossibility of Brexit and the self-inflicted injury of grammar schools, May hunched a little lower over the dispatch box, beaten and bloodied.

Somewhere in a house near Witney, a slightly overweight 49-year-old man hauled himself off the sofa and punched the air. Dave takes his victories where he can find them these days.