On day eleven of the EU withdrawal bill, some 90 or so hours into the marathon, I slipped into oblivion for 39 seconds. Alas, I was behind Ken Clarke when he was on his feet and therefore, in full view of the TV cameras.
In an earlier existence I would never have lasted that long. I recall that the lecture theatre at RMA Sandhurst was known by all the officer cadets as ‘the dormitory’, within minutes of getting in there half the company would be asleep.
In fact I had felt a bit woozy and thought I’d go for a coffee, but Ken had just got to his feet and I thought it would be polite to wait until he had finished. Alas, the next thing I remember was my phone vibrating with messages from Priti Patel and Colonel Mark Lancaster telling me to wake up as I was on camera.
I hoped I’d got away with it, but it was Ken himself who informed me that we were ‘tending’ on social media as the most watched video, and that he had never enjoyed so much publicity for a speech.
The constant ribbing is no difficulty, what is rather wearing however, are the sanctimonious emails from people who never succumb.
I apologise unreservedly. I must develop the habits of getting up later and going to bed earlier.