They huffed and they puffed but failed to blow any house down and only ended up wheezing very heavily in a large parliamentary heap. Yesterday was open season on those very cuddly but, presently, rather irascible Liberal Democrats.

Calamity Clegg, their ruby-faced champion, who last week was the political pied piper who led his merry band of sandled comrades out of the Commons chamber after throwing a euro-tantrum, yesterday sprang up to berate Gordy for "colluding" with those nasty anti-European Tories to deny the British people a vote on their proposed "in-out" referendum on Europe.

As the tumult from the Labour benches finally died down, his Britannic Majesty swelled out his chest and took aim with his clunking fist at the tender jaw of young Cleggy.

Declaring the UK Government would defend Britain's interests "by not walking out of the Commons for a start" but by leading on a range of issues, the PM blasted: "There is not much principle in recommending abstention." Labour hoots of derision against the shiny-haired one were so loud, Calamity, now sporting something of a shiner, could not be heard for several seconds.

Having been handed the cudgel to beat the Tory toff, Gordy was not going to forego the opportunity.

To thunderous Labour roars, Gordy declared DC was being "driven by the Eurosceptics", which sounded rather painful.

Earlier, there was more gentile LibDem baiting during that staple of democratic life: Scottish Questions. Normally the GP's prescribed relief for Westminster insomniacs, yesterday it at least proved the patient still had a heartbeat.

Much mirth was had at the expense of Alistair Carmichael, the LibDems' affable Scottish spokesman, who, by the time this article goes to print, might have been defenestrated by his leader over defying a three-line whip on the EU vote.

David Cairns, the ex-priest turned Scotland Office Minister in charge of the McChattering classes, offered a benediction in the direction of John Thurso, whom he described as "a distinguished former LibDem Scottish spokesperson" and who could well find his way "back in the job tomorrow".

The bearded aristo from Scotland's northernmost frontier shook his head probably a bit too vigorously in rejecting such a proposal.

When Mr Carmichael finally took the floor, Des Browne, Scotland's man in the Cabinet, could not resist the temptation of pulling his leg when he declared he hoped to build up a good relationship with "his successor".

One of the key issues of the day had been the Barnett formula and how Jack "the Shadow" Straw had been pulling the strings behind the scenes to - allegedly - "hack away" at Scotland's £30bn annual handout.

David Mundell, the softly-spoken tartan Tory asked the younger Browne brother: "Will you confirm the position of the Justice Secretary on the Barnett formula as he seems to be playing an increasingly shadowy role in Scottish devolution?"

Des "two hats" Browne spluttered a denial but appeared to hint at the possibility that not all the comrades were singing from the same constitutional hymn sheet when it came to spending money in Scotland.

"What I have said I have said from the dispatch box and I'm not speaking for everybody who sits on these benches." A-ha, cried the Tories, who spotted a cabinet split.

Quick as a flash, "two hats" told Mr M: "No more than he can speak for everybody who sits on the benches behind him. If he wants to know what each individual person believes, then he should ask those individuals."