Not all the 11 supreme court judges looked entirely pleased to be back in session. It was bad enough being dragged back to work in mid-September. After all, they hadn’t slogged their way to the top of the legal profession only to have their summer holidays cut short. But what made things even worse was they were effectively being asked to decide whether the Scottish or the English and Welsh courts had got it wrong. Whatever they did, they were going to end up not only seriously pissing off some colleagues but also starting an uncivil war.

Still, needs must and, shortly after 10am, a smiling Lady Hale, the president of the supreme court, led the 10 other judges into court one and, after a few words of introduction, asked Lord Pannick to make the case for why the English and Welsh courts had been wrong to rule Boris Johnson’s decision to prorogue parliament was lawful. Pannick needed no second invitation. Court one is his manor. It’s where he won Gina Miller’s case, forcing the government to allow parliament a vote on triggering article 50, and he began as if it were an inevitability that by the end of the week he would have made it two out of two.

His delivery was smooth and unruffled. Never using two words where one would do. There were three strands to the argument, he explained, carefully and forensically. First the facts. It was by now an established truth that the Incredible Sulk was both an international embarrassment and completely untrustworthy and, in this case, he had clearly lied about his motives for prorogation. No one seemed in the mood to quibble about that.

Second, there was the matter of public law. It was wrong for the government to prorogue parliament just because the prime minister was scared of what it might do. Under constitutional law, the executive was subservient to the will of parliament. This provoked several interruptions from Lord Carnwath and Lord Reed. Pannick had their cards marked. He knew both judges had been among the three who had sided with the government in the Miller case and would probably do so again. But he only needed six to win. Six was the magic number. So he just settled for reminding Reed he had once presided over a case in which he had found in favour of parliamentary sovereignty and let things slide. He might not get Reed’s vote, but at least that might shut him up. It did.

After a few minor hiccups as various legal bundles went missing and pages were wrongly numbered, Pannick moved on to the question of justiciability. The reason no court had previously ruled on cases of prorogation was because there had been no call for them to do so. But we were now living in the world of the Incredible Sulk, the all-inaction superhero who had done more to abuse the processes of constitutional law than any other prime minister in living memory. And if the supreme court wasn’t prepared to act over a five-week prorogation then would it stand by and let him suspend parliament for longer at a later date? That observation definitely seemed to land with most of the judges.

It was a poor day for nominative determinism. If Pannick had been the epitome of calm, then Lord Keen, who was leading for the government against the Scottish inner court of session, appeared almost comatose. Everyone surely made a mental note not to hire him if they ever found themselves in trouble with the law. Just plead guilty and get it over with. Even if you were innocent. You’d still get a lesser sentence.

Keen mumbled. He shuffled his papers. Time and again, he paused. Not for effect, but because he appeared to have lost his place. He began by spending 20 minutes arguing there was no difference between Scottish and English law in this case. This left people scratching their heads as no one had previously said there was.

That though was the highlight of his day. First he tried to argue the Incredible Sulk hadn’t lied, but even if he had then he was perfectly entitled to. Then he claimed parliament had secretly wanted to be prorogued, because if it had wanted to remain sitting it would have put on a demonstration of interpretive dance.

By now, even Carnwath and Reed were beginning to have their doubts, but Keen was lost in a world of his own. He seemed to imply 14 October was really 9 October. What was shocking to some politicians wasn’t necessarily shocking to the Incredible Sulk, because he was an undiagnosed sociopath, so allowances had to be made. He even contradicted himself by agreeing a Queen’s speech could easily have taken place on 14 October with a prorogation after the party conferences.

Keen ended up as a puddle on the dancefloor. Pannick mopped him up and helped him into a taxi.