Clegg’s silence drowns out Cameron

Clegg plays a perilous balancing act. Cameron looks at ease. New MPs get into their roles.

By Ian Dunt

Watching Nick Clegg is not always an enthralling prospect, but it's downright inexplicable when he's not even talking. This was David Cameron's first PMQs, but for some horrible reason I spent the session watching Clegg instead.

For the record, Cameron is very good at PMQs, as you would expect. You don't have to be comfortable in the Commons to be good at PMQs. Thatcher wasn't, and neither was Blair. But as it happens, Cameron is comfortable and good at it. He is an old Etonian, after all.

He did not reveal any anger, but remained cool and collected throughout. He appears on top of his brief. When heckled for not giving an exact number to a question he retorted: "It's a funny old thing. I'm going to give accurate answers rather than just making them up." I rather enjoyed that.

Responding to Harriet Harman's attack on the proposals for anonymity for rape suspects, Cameron sounded moderate and conciliatory. He is keen to highlight similarities and downplay conflict, although that may just be a habit he picked up in the last few weeks.

There is a catty side. At one point he informed us of a department which spent £140 per person on cut flowers and pot plants. "Perhaps we can have a lottery to discover which one," he remarked, shooting a fighting look at Harman. He has in him that calculating, mercenary side which all successful political leaders try their best to conceal.

Eventually Harman made her first attempt to divide Cameron from Clegg. Her bout with Cameron was like one of those old Japanese movies, where the swordfight between the enemies is mainly made up of silence, stillness and the slow circling of adversaries. Then, once every so often, one of them strikes. Harman on rape, Harman on Israel - important matter perhaps, but she was just circling him. The strike came when she mentioned the married couples' tax allowance.

"No wonder the deputy prime minister is sitting so quietly by his side, because on this one Nick agrees with me," she said. Clegg was all stony silence. At most he allows a grin to overtake him, but the truth is he's like a statue in the Commons nowadays. From that moment on I couldn't take my eyes off him. You suddenly realise the pressure. Too amiable with Cameron and he is enveloped in the Conservative machine. Too hostile and it looks like the coalition is falling apart. He has to prevent the disdain from conquering his face when Cameron mentions the Human Rights Act. But he must also control his enthusiasm when Cameron discusses matters where they genuinely do agree.

At one point he did seem to give the game away. Cameron was reminding the Commons that he wants a 20:1 ratio in public sector pay. "It's that kind of progressive proposal that we're looking forward to taking forward on this side of the House," Cameron said, and for a split second Clegg cheered. The momentum took him, but he quickly composed himself.

The more he allows himself to relax like that, the more we can learn from his demeanour. That's not something he, or Cameron, will welcome. But if he keeps up the silent and dignified act, the public will eventually conclude he is unacceptably weird. Damned if you do, damned if you don't. He's sailed choppy waters remarkably well since May 7th, but every day brings with it new contortions for the deputy prime minister.