"Superman", as Labour colleagues now like to call him, was away.

He was in deepest Brussels, demonstrating his X-ray economic vision on his Euro chums and basking in the glory of having saved the world from certain financial Armageddon - in the nick of time, of course, like all good action heroes.

Yet, politics being the ephemeral bug-eyed monster that it is, it won't be too long before the "magician of Anglo Saxon social-liberalism", as he has been lavishly dubbed, will be back being described as embattled, beleaguered and a hapless no-hoper.

In the absence of super-strength Gordy, the kryptonite was passed on to Supergirl, or should that be Wonder Woman, who looked remarkably like Harriet Harman in a trouser suit.

The Commons mood was dark. The jobless figures had just come out and no-one was in the mood for party political point-scoring. But hey, this is the Commons snakepit and it would be amiss if at least some venom was not projected across the dispatch box.

SuperHarriet could not help pointing out that, while unemployment was up, it was nowhere near as high as it had been under those villainous Tories and the UK Government was putting in place a £100m programme to help with retraining.

Conservative stomachs rumbled at this point as the super-thin veneer of bipartisanship cracked at the first tender touch. William Hague, for these purposes Superman's arch-enemy Brainiac - usually depicted as a bald, green-skinned, extraterrestrial android; no type-casting there then - suggested SuperHarriet was being a mite "complacent" in referring to 1997 levels of joblessness given that one forecast suggested there could be three million people out of work by 2010.

He also pointed out that the £100m was over three years and that, ahem, it had already been announced anyway. Conservative voices sounded a loud: "A-ha!"

Gordy's stand-in insisted she was no, not ever, being complacent and hit back, berating the smug bald one for "writing off the economy", at which Labour back benchers cheered heartily while Tory ones shook their heads in disgust.

Brainiac, however, had another go, referring to SuperHarriet's blog in which she said that, while people knew there was global financial turbulence, "they are not worried about their own prospects in 2008". Tories started bobbing up and down, sensing a "gotcha" moment.

Wonder Woman harrumphed back over the blog jibe, insisting while the financial troubles had developed over time, their impact on family finances, businesses and jobs had been "sudden".

But the Tory hero launched his final attack by saying the Labour government could no longer boast about its handling of the economy when taxes were up, debt was up, inflation was up, unemployment was up and when, on economic performance, 104 other countries were listed at being better prepared than Britain to cope with the downturn. "Isn't it time to acknowledge," blustered the Yorkshireman, "that the claim to have abolished boom and bust was one of the most foolish, hubristic, irresponsible claims by a British Prime Minister."

SuperHarriet declared - to Tory guffaws of incredulity - that this was a "serious moment for the economy" and required "serious actions from the government". Again she berated her opponent for talking down Britain but insisted - parodying David Cameron - that SuperGordon was "a man with a plan".

The punchline failed to connect, however, and fell to the chamber floor like a dead parrot. The kryptonite was clearly taking its toll.

Meantime, there are suggestions that SuperGordon - "faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive and able to leap tall buildings in a single bound" - might seek to spoil the SNP party and "Lex Luthor" Salmond's big conference moment this weekend by landing in Glenrothes for a quick visit to wow the locals with his superhuman powers.

Of course, it could be that come November 7 the saviour of the universe will be seen to have crashed to earth on the back of yet another Labour defeat and turn out to be the bumbling bank manager in a crumpled suit anxiously looking to find his way out of a Fife telephone booth.