Sadly, Mr Cameron has started to look comically tiny himself. The shock of the backbench rebellion has stretched the skin of his face, making his cheeks pinker and shinier than ever. With a foolish bald-spot-hiding parting, he was the spit of The Beano’s Lord Snooty as he vainly tried to muscle in on the big kids’ chats in Brussels the other night. When Sarko refused to look round at him while they shook hands, it put “Yo Blair” in its place. Perhaps if the Government ever tires of being in the path of the euro tsunami without having any say in how to build the tidal barrier, and decides to have a coherent foreign policy once again, he won’t appear quite such an irrelevant pygmy.