A man with dodgy eyebrows came to the Commons to tell us about a great deal that he wants to do with our money. I was impressed, if only with his chutzpah. It was like watching a used-car salesman trying to get us to invest in a car that was in a terrible crash. It’s now so dodgy that it’s known as Northern Wreck: it looks a mess, has an unreliable engine, wonky brakes, no MOT and no insurance. It could cost billions. What a deal!

As I watched Alistair Darling morph into a spiv salesman, I wondered if he thought that we were stupid. But then it was hard not to feel stupid, for his statement was as opaque as a black hole. That, of course, is the art of the flimflam man.

To his credit Mr Darling looked miserable. At one point he shouted: “At least I have a plan!” For this, he was mocked by Iain Duncan Smith: “I cannot tell you how much better we feel now that we know that Chancellor Baldrick has a cunning plan.” The former Tory leader, an expert on mockery, got a laugh. That is what it has come to.

George Osborne, the Shadow Chancellor, was magnificently dismissive. “You want the taxpayers of Britain to provide a £25 billion mortgage to Northern Rock for years to come,” he spat, his words like venom. “Add in the guarantees to depositors and it comes to £55 billion in total – that’s £2,000 for every family in the country, a second mortgage on every home to rescue the reputation of this Government.”

But the man of the hour was Vince Cable. Yes, he’s back! The only Lib Dem we’ll ever trust was utterly scathing as he noted the inanities of this once-in-a-lifetime deal. “What we have here is the Government, through its bond guarantees, solemnly undertaking to repay the Government. We have the taxpayer standing behind the taxpayer. We’ve got a private sector solution without private money. We have nationalisation of losses and privatisation of profits. It requires a particular kind of genius to dream up an idea of this kind.”

Mr Darling didn’t look unhappy, for no one had ever called him a genius before. Vince got personal. “I am tempted to recall the Danish economist, Hans Christian Andersen, who told the story of the two conmen who visited a particularly credulous king to sell him an imaginary suit of gold to cover his nakedness. What we have here is a naked King Gordon desperately trying to cover his embarrassment over the N-word – nationalisation.”

The Chamber recoiled. I think it was the idea of a naked King Gordon more than anything. This was a vision too far. It was only a shame that King Gordon couldn’t be in the chamber but he was touring with his entourage. Sir Richard Branson, who is in that entourage, was the man they loved to hate. He may help us to buy the car. Vince said that the plan is for Mr Branson to put in £250 million in kind, not cash, and to require £100 billion back – that’s 40 times that value. I have to say that it sounds quite a deal – for him.

Even Dennis Skinner was sceptical: “Some of us would much rather see public ownership than handing over large sums of money to Mr Goody Two Shoes Branson because we might not get it back.”

Mr Darling looked deflated. I watched him and wondered: would we buy a used car from this man? I’m not sure we have a choice.

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