A rare week, this, in which the House of Commons actually has the temerity to sit during a school holiday. All credit to the honourable ladies and gentlemen who did their best to manage, with only one or two otherwise occupied with holidays that simply could not be cancelled.

Several, including the ex-denuded Shower Gel salesman member for Plymouth, Johnny Mercer, brought their young children into the members’ gallery to “enjoy” the occasion.

Out of generosity to their diminutive visitors, Theresa May and Jeremy Corbyn managed to lay on a Fisher Price My First Prime Minister’s Questions-style exchange.

As they gently lobbed between them yet more unfortunate revelations on the disastrous universal credit rollout, you could almost hear the MPs’ soft whispers in their children’s ears.

That old man there, he is the leader of the Labour Party. The Labour Party likes poor people and wants to give them more money.

That old woman there, she is the leader of Daddy’s party. Daddy’s party has been taking money away from poor people and that old man there is not very happy about it.

But why have you been taking money away from poor people, Daddy?

Because they haven’t earned it, darling. Daddy doesn’t believe in something for nothing.

Why do you hate poor people, Daddy?

Now, now. We’ve been through this. Daddy doesn’t hate poor people. What does Daddy always say? A poor person’s just a rich person that hasn’t worked hard enough.

Even for non-five year olds, it was a continuing and welcome return to the old days. A Conservative government making life unlivable for those who rely on benefits. A Labour opposition, righteously angry about it. It was only right at the very end, when Jeremy Corbyn made a rare foray on to the subject of Brexit, that the little ones started to look a little bit confused.

Daddy, that man just said you are weak, divided and unable to make a decision on Brexit. Why are you weak, divided and unable to make a decision on Brexit?

That man just says these things because he wants the attention, darling. Daddy’s party isn’t weak and divided. It’s strong and stable. Daddy’s party’s position has not changed since it was set out in that woman’s Lancaster House speech.

But you voted against Brexit, Daddy. We knocked on doors and gave out leaflets with Remain written on them. You said that woman said it was in “the country’s best interests.”

But Daddy didn’t win the vote, little one. The people made a different decision, and Daddy has to go along with it.

But why, Daddy? Why do you have to go along with it? When you had your friends round for dinner last week, after we’d gone to bed, you told them it was going to be a “total f***ing disaster.”

Now, you listen to me. We don’t use that word. Not in here. Not ever. And certainly not in front of Mummy.

Why don’t you say something, Daddy?

I can’t, little one. I can’t.

But that old man just did.

Listen. That man is just saying that. That man’s wanted it to happen for 30 years. He doesn’t care if it’s a disaster or not. He just had to say he didn’t want it to happen when he did really did. And now he actually does want it to be a disaster but he can’t say he wants it to be a disaster. And it is going to be disaster but there’s nothing Daddy or anyone can do about it.

Daddy. Is that man a liar?