Ooh! '˜proper' suits you sir, just ask my mum

Not worn a ‘proper suit’ since his sharp ted days, never been remotely comfortable in a tie – even though never fully ‘done up’ – and as for singing the national anthem...

I suspect he’d sooner trump it. A hard-worker though. One who has always provided. Paid his way. Honest. Respected among his peers.

Still, one can hardly expect such trifles to cut muster with Mary Fleur Cameron, daughter of Sir William Malcolm Mount of Wasing Place, 2nd Baronet and former High Sheriff of Berkshire. Nor, last Wednesday’s outburst suggests, with her son. Perhaps I am sensitised to such matters, but for me Cameron’s performance at Prime Minister’s Questions is easily the finest display of snobbery in the Commons this century. Indeed, the only comparable affront which springs to mind would be the Rt Hon Sir Nicholas Soames’ repeated jibes at John Prescott.

“Giovanni, a gin and tonic please,” said the snot-gobbling grandson of Churchill and former Royal equerry to the then Labour deputy leader and ex-ship’s steward when he rose to address the House.

Hilarious. Anyhow, it gladdened my heart to wake Thursday and find the Tory Party’s propaganda machine – better known as most of the national press – had played an absolute blinder in its efforts to sanitise the previous day’s exchange.

The Sun was my pick of the crop, and little wonder. Obviously the last thing this rag wants is its self-harming White Van Man readership to get the idea a PM they helped elect would likely dismiss their best whistle as improper too.

Ghastly off-the-peg thing! The very opposite of the £3,500 Savile Row suit Cameron wore to address the 2009 Tory Party conference (since then the machine has made repeated reference to his love of M&S). The Sun, knowing the remark had been so widely reported it could not be ignored, took the novel route of presenting Cameron’s snide line as a joke, a devastating witticism, a sparkling bon mot.

“The stony faces either side of Corbyn as he tried to muster a response were priceless,” they reported in that cheeky, blokey tone they employ to fool imbeciles.

And maybe it worked. But something tells me – hope, perhaps – that there will also have been stony faces in White Vans the length and breadth of Britain.