O
nce again Jim Shannon (DUP) was last to be called. It was business questions on the last dog day before a six-week summer recess. The Commons was listless, drifting at anchor as its bows were lightly lapped by thoughts of Aegean coves, sun-dappled decks and lazy afternoons on the retsina.
“And finally,” honked the deputy speaker, Dame Eleanor Laing, “Jim Shannon!” The house half-bestirred itself to give sympathetic hear-hears as unlucky Jim, the ancient mariner of Strangford Lough, creaked to his feet to make another of his constructive contributions. A few lethargic eyes opened, curious lest Shannon say something worthwhile. But no. He merely said things that were worthy. That is not quite the same thing.
For reasons never stated, Speakers always keep Shannon to
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