Come, gawp at the grot of politics: the scandals, lies, hypocrisy, the cliches and blatant fixes, the billions wasted. Westminster’s dank day brought us all these delights.

It began – hypershift of coo! – with Andy Burnham’s campaign video for the Makerfield by-election. Here was a production the late Walt Disney himself might have found too sentimental for his palate. Its four minutes were so saccharine they should have been sponsored by Messrs Sweet’N Low, purveyors of mush to the elite.

One minute and 40 seconds of this epic was devoted to Makerfield. The rest was set in sunny central Manchester, itself playing second fiddle to our hero. 

We saw Andy walking among his people, as Moses through the Red Sea; a Moses, mind you, dressed in black leisurewear rather than the flowing robes generally favoured by prophets.

‘I don’t take anything for granted,’ insisted candidate Andy, even while signing up senior staff for when he enters 10 Downing Street. A c.£100k job will reportedly be bunged to Josh Simons, the treacherous fellow who bequeathed him this seat.

Mr Burnham continued: ‘I am for us. All of us.’ Does that include poor Sir Keir Starmer? The nasal knight has bolted himself inside No10 and is understood to be gargling his way through the drinks cabinet with Lady Starmer.

Reform UK unleashed retaliation at idol Andy: a video of its own candidate, Ashton-born plumber Robert Kenyon.

‘For Andy Burnham, Makerfield will be a stepping stone,’ said Mr Kenyon. ‘For me it is the only place I’ve ever wanted to represent.’ Mr Kenyon also wore black but he did not use Oasis pop music.

With Makerfield by now staggering under these blows, Reform chairman Lee Anderson turned up to film himself on the doorsteps. Mr Anderson’s camera technique is a little unsteady. His material may induce seasickness in all but the most experienced mariners.

At the Commons we had a turn from Darren Jones, Chief Secretary to the PM, who tried to explain delays in handing over documents on Peter Mandelson, as per parliamentary edict. Mr Jones, normally an elegant debater, became crabby. He was accused of intending to delay publication of the Mandelson files until after Makerfield’s by-election.

Criticism was led by members of the Intelligence and Security Committee, a body of the most fastidious non-partisanship. Its (Labour) chairman, Lord Beamish, sat in the peers’ gallery, looking sad at this filthy fiasco. Mr Jones snapped brief answers at MPs and became batey when accused of a ‘cover-up’. His ears went pink.

On we staggered to a statement on the £100billion foul-up of HS2, the high-speed railway line that politicians from the main parties demanded for years (among them, cough, a certain A. Burnham). Transport Secretary Heidi Alexander demanded an ‘apology’ from the Conservatives, for all the good that would do. Pretty much the whole Establishment – ministers, mandarins, think tanks, parliamentary committees, consultants and comment-page grandees – supported HS2. Same people who gave us the EU. Government by groupthink.

The Commons moved on to a King’s Speech debate on energy. Ed Miliband bulged his eyes and vented disbelief that anyone could disagree with his judicious policies. High taxes on oil companies were vital for the future of our realm, he bellowed. When a Lib Dem woman started wittering on about ‘taking back control’ of energy, I fled, unable to tolerate any more of this formulaic rubbish.

Things were little better at the Culture committee, where a familiar if slightly shrivelled-looking blowhard was waxing on about the need for nobler standards in broadcasting. Could it be? Yes it was: Sir Peter Bazalgette, reality television’s original Captain Trash, the man who brought Big Brother to our screens.

As if that wasn’t intellectual enough, the day ended with a video trailer from the Education Department starring Gemma Collins, who once brought such dignity to The Only Way Is Essex. Whitehall’s video also features that well-known comedy actress, Bridget Phillipson.

Citizens, I give you our politics.