Theresa May – the prime minister with the unerring knack of snatching defeat from the jaws of defeat. Shortly after four in the afternoon, a tweet from the Irish broadcaster RTE, reporting that the UK and the EU had agreed an outline Brexit deal, sent Westminster hacks into meltdown. It also seemed to catch the government by surprise. Hard to believe, but May gave every appearance of being one of the last to know that she had secured a deal.

May can no longer delay her bunfight with Tory Brexiters Read more

A competent prime minister might have used the time to press home her advantage. To give a television statement in which she talked up the historic nature of her achievement. That she secured a Brexit deal that would deliver on the will of the people. The sunlit uplands were in touching distance. But May just couldn’t bring herself to do that.

In her heart of hearts, she knew that her deal was a terrible deal. The only thing it had going for it was that it was better than no deal at all. Most of the promises she had made were now dust. She had achieved something most had thought impossible: she had come up with a deal that would be rejected by remainers and leavers alike. Faced with a personal humiliation, she rolled into a foetal ball and watched cartoons.

A short while later, one of her aides switched off the TV and told her it might be a good idea to try and get her cabinet on board. Once they had got over the surprise of her actually making a decision, one or two might have a few things to say about it. One of the first invited in was Chris Grayling. That’s because he was a slow reader and it would take him a while to get his head round it. Give him a month or two and he might know whether he could support the deal or not. It was going to be a long night in Downing Street.

Brexit deal: Labour, Tory hard-Brexiters and DUP line up against May – Politics live Read more

Over in the House of Commons, the hardline Brexiters of the European Research Group and the DUP could hardly believe their luck. TV abhors a vacuum. With no one from the government out and about to sell the deal, the airwaves were all theirs. Even though, like everyone else, they didn’t have a clue what was actually in the deal, they were free to shitbag the one they thought she had probably got. And if it turned out they got the whole thing wrong, then no harm done. It was always therapeutic to let off steam and lay down some markers.

Boris Johnson was first into central lobby. Brexit had been betrayed. We were being to all intents and purposes kept in the customs union and the UK would remain in vassalage. Boom, bumble, boom, bumble, thank you and good night. Next up was Jacob Rees-Mogg. He too had no idea what the actual deal was. He was just certain that it was a bad one, because any deal that the EU signed off had to be bad for the UK.

Several other Tories milled around hopefully, desperate for someone to ask them for their views. Priti Patel and Mark Francois eventually sloped off, their voices largely unheard, their no-mark status confirmed. Iain Duncan Smith looked ecstatic. Almost as if he was far more thrilled the prime minister had got a deal he disliked rather than one he wanted. That way he could be properly, righteously, smugly outraged. Even if the cabinet backed May, then the party wouldn’t and the government would fall, he predicted. When might it fall, he was asked. “I’m not in the business of making predictions,” he snapped.

The DUP’s Nigel Dodds was also in seventh heaven. A man never happier than when he is angry. He began by asking if anyone knew what the deal was. Everyone shrugged. Never mind, he continued, let’s just proceed on the basis it’s one that the DUP could not accept. Betrayal. Surrender. He continued in this vein till the last TV crew had left.

There was just one smiling face in the cabinet. Earlier in the day, David Lidington, the de facto deputy prime minister, had drawn the short straw as the public face of the government’s climbdown on revealing the final legal advice on the Brexit deal. It had been a couple of hours in the chamber he would rather forget. And now he could. Along with everyone else. No one would remember his painful two hours of humble pie. All eyes were back on Theresa. Every cloud and all that...