Big problems demand serious responses. Rachel Reeves, panicked by economic failure, strode into the Commons and announced cut-price circus tickets for the summer.

Political commentators sometimes talk of Chancellors producing rabbits from hats. Here was one of those pink bunnies you are handed by the cork shoot at a funfair.

The Chancellor's statement to the Commons announced cheaper family tickets for summer attractions such as zoos, museums and play parks. There would also – pack your sick bags, everyone – be free bus rides for children in August. Further measures included a temporary VAT cut on children's menus in pubs and restaurants. This will please my 91-year-old mother, who eats like a wren and often orders a kiddies' dish because anything bigger defeats her.

Ms Reeves was on – how can one put this? – expansive form. She shouted a lot and did much laughing. Some words came out wrongly or were slurred. Her vowels were unusually stretchy whereas some consonants vanished.

Dental patients speak in such a fashion after an extraction, before the anaesthetic wears off.

The statement brought confirmation that the Treasury had again agreed, with much off-stage huffing, to forego planned increases in petrol duty. We knew about that already because Ms Reeves visited a supermarket filling station on Wednesday to publicise it, and was duly given the bird by a van driver. She reprimanded the fellow for his 'not very British' manners.

Earlier in the day the Speaker, Sir Lindsay Hoyle, suffered one of his mini-Etna eruptions. He tetchily reminded ministers of the rule that important announcements be made first in parliament and not 'outside a Morrisons petrol station or on TikTok'. Mr Speaker was fortunate that Ms Reeves was not present to hear his criticisms. She might have rolled her eyes and told him off for being 'not very British'.

Policy particulars we will leave to others. What was striking was the Chancellor's skittishness and her use of language. As she said 'I am taking action' and 'I am clear', the stress was on the first word each time. She kept using the first person singular. Her 10-minute opening speech contained the word 'I' no fewer than 45 times.

Here, we might conclude, was a Chancellor in the grip of self-absorption. Westminster is full of talk that Sir Keir Starmer will soon be replaced as Prime Minister. Will Ms Reeves also be given the boot? She has not been an obvious success. Did that explain her animation here?

Her face was either flushed or bruised, or she had been in the sun. She stood so close to the table that her feet had to be splayed. The voice, never the lightest of piccolos, was uncommonly blowy. Words were pushed through the larynx as if they were spuds encountering a masher.

There was a thudding application of partisan what-aboutery as she attacked the Tories and Reform. Even the poor Lib Dems came in for a wallop. Yet they themselves are normally so polite about Labour. Jolly bad luck.

'We will always stand up for industry,' bellowed this Chancellor who has done so much to impoverish manufacturing. 'We have the right economic plan.' Say it loudly enough and maybe people will believe it. Her tone lurched between wild conviviality and a leaden indignation. One moment she was joking with Labour MPs about fish and chips in their community, the next she was tearing into the Opposition.

The two-month cheap tickets bonanza tasted, to your crumpled sketch writer, much like Rishi Sunak's Eat Out To Help Out wheeze during Covid. The Treasury is trying to whip up holiday fervour. The hope for Ms Reeves may be that it will make her less unpopular at a time when a new PM is contemplating Cabinet changes.

At one point she talked of 'the first two Budgets I've delivered'. Will there ever be a third? Or will she be ushered, weeping, to an aisle seat on the backbenches, there to ponder regrets for the rest of her days?