Whatever happens now with Brexit, I’ll wager there’s one person who’ll quietly be putting the bubbly on ice: Philip May.

All political spouses have to watch their partners get a drubbing now and then: it’s part and parcel of the deal, especially in this day and age. But few have had to endure the sight of their sick and exhausted wife being repeatedly humiliated, ridiculed, thwarted and mocked by a variety of self-interested opponents, from Donald Tusk and his mates in Brussels, to the Speaker of the House of Commons himself — all for simply trying to do her job.

For Mr May, I suspect, this day could not have come too soon.

Whatever mistakes the Prime Minister has made during the course of her premiership, the one thing she can never be accused of is laziness or complacency.

Whatever mistakes the Prime Minister (pictured in Salzburg last year) has made during the course of her premiership, the one thing she can never be accused of is laziness or complacency

Whatever happens now with Brexit, I’ll wager there’s one person who’ll quietly be putting the bubbly on ice: Philip May (pictured with Mrs May on Sunday)

She has worked tirelessly and with dogged determination at getting her deal across the line. The fact that — so far — she has failed to do so is much more a function of the deep divisions in British politics than any reflection on her.

Quite simply, she was trying to achieve the impossible: secure an orderly Brexit in the teeth of unrelenting opposition from all sides: Remainers, hardline Leavers — and, of course, that ultimate in self-interested and opportunistic parties, Labour.

To say that her schedule over the past few months has been punishing is an understatement. Someone half her age — and without the added pressure of battling Type 1 diabetes — would have been forgiven for flagging. And yet Mrs May has not ceased in her endeavours.

There have been moments in recent weeks where I have genuinely wondered how she has managed to put one foot in front of the other.

I have watched her up on her feet for hours in the Chamber, batting away objections and pompous points of order with the skill and precision of Roger Federer returning lightning serves at Wimbledon.

She has bitten her tongue as assorted colleagues have thrown their toys out of their respective prams, lied, cheated, patronised and briefed against her, and generally made Brexit all about themselves and their own short-term ambitions.

Theresa May leaves the Houses of Parliament today after hearing the outcome of the indicative votes on the alternative options for Brexit

As the weeks of in-fighting became months, and Deadline Day approached, the stress must have been immense. Only once did her voice crack at the despatch box. But if exhaustion began to take its toll, her determination never faltered.

There have been times when she has been like an exasperated parent who, with infinite patience and self-control, separates fighting siblings only to find them back at each other’s throats the second she turns her head.

She has approached the petulant, posturing popinjays of Parliament from every conceivable angle, listened endlessly to their demands, flogged herself around Europe on planes, trains and automobiles in pursuit of their demands. And each time they have, like the spoiled princesses they are, dismissed her efforts out of hand.

And now, at last, they have what they’ve always wanted. Her scalp.

On a day when the House of Commons was busy gorging itself on an unusually large banquet of self-indulgence, debating assorted hypothetical and utterly pointless amendments, she seized the initiative. Having exhausted all other options Mrs May played the only card left to her, and threw herself in front of her deal, taking a bullet square in her political heart in the hope of getting it across the line.

Mrs May is, of course, the daughter of a vicar — and there is something of the scriptures about her decision to make the ultimate sacrifice. It speaks of a deep sense of conviction, of a solid moral compass not often glimpsed in public life.

I certainly can’t remember a time when a political leader displayed such courage and selfless sense of duty. Not despite being a woman, but — I suspect — because of it.

Prime Minister Theresa May and Secretary of State for Exiting the European Union Stephen Barclay leave Downing Street on Monday

Following Margaret Thatcher as Britain’s second female PM was never going to be an easy gig. But May, with surprisingly edgy fashion choices — from steel-tipped loafers and leopard-print kitten heels to those leather trousers — managed to escape the spectre of the Iron Lady, carving out her own inimitable style. Most Prime Ministers — the Iron Lady among them — have to have the keys of No. 10 prised from their fists. Yet Mrs May has willingly surrendered her power in exchange for something infinitely more precious: what she truly believes is right for her country.

I have no idea whether her decision will lead to her desired outcome: the approval of her deal and a smooth passage to the next stage of the Brexit negotiations.

But whatever else happens, she will be remembered as a woman who fought tirelessly and thanklessly for something that, while not entirely perfect, was nevertheless the best available under the circumstances.

A magnificent trouper who risked her health and sanity for everyone else’s benefit — and who ultimately sacrificed herself for what she believed was right.

There are many mothers and wives in Britain today who will recognise a kindred spirit. Many who, even if they do not agree with Mrs May’s deal or share her politics, will nevertheless feel a great sense of respect towards her and the magnificent way she stood up to the leagues of men lined up against her.

It now falls to those who demanded her head — the Brexit hardliners within the Conservative Party — to act like the gentlemen they profess to be and honour their side of the bargain by backing her deal.

The idea that a new leader can somehow get something better out of Brussels as things stand is for the birds: if it is not Mrs May’s deal, then a chaotic no deal awaits, or a pointless fudge, which ultimately leaves us worse off than we are now.

Either way, for the Mays, the nightmare is almost over. The Prime Minister can leave office with her head held high, safe in the knowledge that even if she didn’t quite get what she wanted, she at least gave it — and the nation — her all.