It’s been about 25 years since Michael Gove last took drugs. Give or take. But during his Commons statement on no-deal preparations, the de facto deputy prime minister gave a good impression of someone back on cocaine. Maybe he was just enjoying euphoric recall, but this was Gove at his most insufferable. Which is saying something. Twitchy, arrogant and dismissive. Convinced of his own divinity. And deadly boring with it.

Gove has often had something of a charmed life in parliament. Everyone has always known he has an uneasy relationship with the truth – no one who has employed Dominic Cummings as a special adviser can ever have been said to be on the side of the angels – but he has always enjoyed the benefit of the doubt because of his ability to sound unfailingly polite when he is in fact being point blank rude. Now though, that facade has dropped. His soul has been sold several times over and all that is left is bluster and bullshit.

The day won’t be remembered as one of Westminster’s finest. Overnight, a government adviser – step forward Classic Dom – had leaked that the Brexit negotiations were dead in the water, we were heading for no deal and the UK would seek to punish any EU country that granted an article 50 extension.

Then another No 10 spokesman leaked a sketchy version of a phone call between Boris Johnson and Angela Merkel in which all the blame for the failure of negotiations was attributed to the German refusal to compromise. Government by unattributable quotes, with all eyes firmly focused on an imminent election rather than a Brexit deal.

Gove’s performance did nothing to raise the tone. Among the charlatans in the cabinet, Mikey is right up there. Since the referendum campaign, lying has become second nature to him. His only embarrassment is when someone happens to catch him out telling the truth. So he lied about how he was still hoping for a deal to be reached, despite knowing full well that insisting Northern Ireland leave the customs union would create some kind of hard border.

Then things took a rather darker turn. Earlier this year, Boris Johnson had declared that a no-deal Brexit was a million-to-one shot. Well, how lucky must the prime minister be feeling now his rank outsider was just about the only runner left standing? Gove affected no surprise at the rapid change of odds. In just a couple of months, he, the Great Mikey, had made sure the country was entirely prepared for no deal.

Babble, babble, sweaty babble. Gove went off on one. Everything was tickety boo. People would be drinking gallons of cheap South American wine, the UK would become a world centre for the narcotics trade, anyone who was made homeless would be entitled to a free cardboard box and the government was putting £5m towards ensuring each town had its own Dignitas drop-in centre. It was that deranged. A fantasy vision of the UK that wouldn’t survive even passing contact with reality.

Keir Starmer didn’t even bother to mention the government’s no-deal document, having already filed it under magical realism. Rather, the shadow Brexit secretary focused on the inherent dishonesty at the heart of government. Its inability to admit basic truths about its own intentions. Had Gove not read the recent report from the Institute for Fiscal Studies that made it plain government borrowing was likely to rise to levels not seen for half a century and no deal would cost businesses £15bn a year in extra paperwork? Could the minister not remember he had lied about the readiness of both the retail and car-manufacturing sectors? He couldn’t.

On it went. Babble, babble, sweaty babble. Gove didn’t pause for breath. Or reflection. Just in this moment, he was the king of his own world.

The piece de resistance was Chris Grayling, in his first intervention since being sacked, failing to understand the nature of a customs union. Dear Chris. He has clearly been stung by James “The Dud” Duddridge’s recent attempts to snatch his record as the dimmest government minister in history. Failing Grayling sat down triumphant. He still had it.

A few Tory backbenchers joined forces with opposition appeals for sanity in the government’s headlong dash towards a catastrophic no deal for which no country could ever be fully prepared. Labour’s Barry Sheerman made a late plea to Mikey’s better nature. Surely there must be times when he woke up in a blind panic as the realisation seeped into his subconscious that he had hitched himself to such an obviously disastrous course of action? When the history books were written, did Gove really want to be remembered as the architect of the UK’s demise?

There was the merest flicker of self-awareness in Gove’s eyes, before the shutters went down again. Crazy is as crazy does. Gove was once again lost to reality. Lost to himself. He had only intended leaving the EU to be a light recreational activity. Something for parties, something he could knock on the head at any time. But now he was in the grip of full-on Brexit madness, powerless over his addiction.