And then there was one: a single remaining Labour backbencher prepared to defend Sir Keir Starmer over the Peter Mandelson affair.

The Labour party returned more than 400 MPs at the last election. Yesterday just one of them was still prepared to fight in a ditch for the nasal knight.

In 1826 James Fenimore Cooper won fame by writing ‘The Last of the Mohicans’. And now here we had another final warrior, loincloth tattered, his spear a bit bent out of shape. 

Who was he? Why, naturally, it was Perran Moon (Camborne & Redruth), real name Peregrine Henry Rupert Moon. When not applying himself to statesmanship he is a second-hand car salesman, accustomed to applying Turtle Wax to bangers. 

Here, with polished brogues and a faint whiff of soap, is a geezer to evangelise the merits of sagging jalopies – ‘lovely little runner, guvnor, and just look at that handsome glovebox’. The rest of the parliamentary party, and indeed country, may have concluded that Sir Keir is a smoking wreck but Moonshine was still a believer.

Cabinet minister Darren Jones had come to give an update on the release of all those Mandelson documents the Government must hand over to the Commons.

Mr Jones is the one who looks like the 1950s actor Richard Wattis. He is Chief Secretary to the PM but ‘Chief Crisis Manager’ would be a truer title, and he is good at it. He has a deft tone of droll restraint, and deploys brevity. Punctiliously polite, he neatly placed his soft hands on the despatch box and regretted, with exquisite courtesy, that he could not be more helpful.

Every prime minister should have a Jones.

The Opposition benches were busy but a mere 12 Labour backbenchers had turned up for Mr Jones’s statement. Not all of them spoke or even stayed. Alex Barros-Curtis (Lab, Cardiff W), an unexciting lawyer who somehow landed a seat before the last election, was there. Would he repay favours owed by standing up for Sir Keir? No. Sashayed out after a short while, red socks flashing under too-short trousers.

Bedford’s Mohammad Yasin sat on his hands. Ditto Worcester’s Tom Collins, less lively than the name suggests. Chris Murray (Edinburgh E & Musselburgh) came flapping in, listened for a few minutes, fled. Tall, dark Markus Campbell-Savours (Penrith & Solway) showed no inclination to speak. Who could blame him? Labour Whips treated him badly last year after he protested against the farms tax.

Clive Efford (Eltham & Chislehurst) did ask a question but it was not entirely helpful. Next up on the Labour side was Stella Creasy (Walthamstow). She noted what a dreadful business the whole thing was. I wonder if she might soon defect to the Greens. 

Rachael Maskell (York) fretted about the costs of the scandal. She is seldom so worried about money when it comes to benefits. Richard Burgon (Leeds E) attacked Sir Keir’s circle. Chris Vince (Harlow) did his normal Norman Wisdom routine. No one had a clue what he said. Sarah Russell (Congleton) had a gulpy question about legal technicalities. Sometime loyalist Sean Woodcock (Banbury) sounded barely lukewarm to No10.

In vain did one look for the arch-sycophant John Slinger (Rugby). Good grief, has even Slinger given up?

Which left us with Moon. He lumbered to his size 10s, swayed a bit and let rip at the Tories for ‘seeking to rush through’ the publication of the Mandelson papers. There was a danger the police investigation could be compromised. By the time he finished he was red in the face, and encountering a fair squall of laughter from the House.

One day, as with the Last Mohican, Mr Moon will be a source of fascination. Artefacts from his hunting life will be placed in museum display cabinets. Anthropologists will analyse his instinctive desire to cleave to his tribe. Kevin Costner will play him in the film. The Last of the Greasers. Magnificent.