It is hard not to have viewed events at Westminster over the last few days without the vague feeling that, having searched for tractors, you found yourself watching something that left you feeling guilty, fascinated and faintly dirty. A soiling of the soul that no sweaty pledges not to sin again, nor scented-soap scrubbings, can quite expunge. Politics is rarely an edifying spectacle. It reaches occasional, dizzying heights of oratory or grand achievement which obscure its essential and quotidian amorality. A principle-free self-awareness vacuum in which everyone dances like nobody’s watching and the beat is provided by ambition. “Vanity”, as Margaret Thatcher lamented, “All is vanity”. One doesn’t have to be a Boris supporter to think that recent attempts to oust him have brought to centre stage the worst that politics have to offer.