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Predictably, all the Tory rebels lined up to express their confidence in the Government yesterday. There is nothing like the prospect of an election — and the possibility of expulsion from

the Elysian Fields of Westminster— to concentrate minds. With the result a foregone conclusion, the concluding speeches turned to the issue of character. The Commons, by convention, is a

clubbable place. It has to be, else honourable members might murder one another. (During the debates over Catholic Emancipation in 1829, which made Brexit look like the vicar’s tea party,

the then Prime Minister, the Duke of Wellington, fought a duel with Lord Winchilsea, though neither was injured.) In those days, when vindication of character was a matter of pistols at

dawn, the personal really was the political. Hence the convention that on the floor of the House, personal insults are deemed unparliamentary language. So when Tom Watson launched his highly

personal attack on Theresa May in his speech at the end of the confidence debate, he was breaking with convention and drew audible gasps. Cunningly, Labour’s deputy leader inserted the

dagger under the guise of sympathy, after her deal had been crushed by the largest majority in history. He felt sorry for the Prime Minister, he said, looking straight at the woman smiling

opposite, just eight feet away. She had done her best, but her determination was “toxic” because “she doesn’t possess the necessary skills, the political skills, the empathy, the ability and

most crucially the policy to lead this country any longer.” It was, as he admitted, cruel; but plenty of MPs on both sides of the House relished every word. In response, Michael Gove

deployed hard facts rather than crocodile tears to destroy the man who had put down the motion of no confidence, Jeremy Corbyn. In a tour de force of controlled aggression, Gove demonstrated

to the House and the watching public exactly why the Labour leader was, by deeds as well as character, wholly unfit for office. Having detailed Corbyn’s lamentable record of support for the

enemies of Western civilisation and his lack of support for the armed forces, Gove hit home by reminding Labour MPs of their leader’s responsibility for reintroducing anti-Semitism into

British politics for the first time since Oswald Mosley: “If he cannot protect his own Members of Parliament, if he cannot protect the proud traditions of the Labour Party, then how could he

possibly protect this country?” Speaker Bercow unnecessarily interrupted Gove’s short speech, but it didn’t matter. The Environment Secretary had not only reminded both sides of his own

oratorical gifts — far superior to the Prime Minister’s — but more importantly of how such skills ought to be used in the national interest. Yet it was Watson’s sly digs at Mrs May that

preoccupied the BBC and most other commentators in the post mortem. Character assassination may be necessary in certain circumstances, but it can easily backfire. Take the question of

ability. Watson has a degree from the University of Hull; he has never had a job outside Labour politics. Theresa May has a degree from Oxford — alright, she only took a 2.1, but so did, for

example, Boris Johnson and Dominic Grieve — and worked in banking for 20 years. It is not obvious that Watson is entitled to patronise Mrs May or to criticise her credentials. Yet it is the

suggestion that the Prime Minister lacks empathy that really hit home. She does indeed come across on television as robotic and she has failed to carry the country, or even her own party,

with her throughout the Brexit process. Many have questioned her sincerity and transparency in refusing to reveal her negotiating hand. She has implicitly acknowledged her own limitations,

first by pledging to stand down before the next election, and now by reaching across the party divide to invite opposition politicians to reach a consensus. Her native rigidity may be an

obstacle in an endeavour that many will see as quixotic anyway, but nobody can now accuse her of not having tried. And what has been Corbyn’s response? A blank refusal even to enter into

discussions unless the Prime Minister rules out no-deal in advance — a condition he knows she cannot accept. This, surely, confirms Gove’s character analysis of the Leader of the Opposition.

She may be stubborn; he is a fanatic. She may be out of her depth; he wants to drag us all down into the depths. A well-timed BBC documentary about Hugo Chavez included footage of Jeremy

Corbyn cheering on the Venezuelan dictator. Under the latter’s successor, that unfortunate country has now descended into famine. The leader of the Labour Party would love to be a British

Chavez. He will never change. Charisma matters in politics, but we need to keep it in proportion. Lord Byron was notoriously described as “mad, bad and dangerous to know” — though he wrote

great poetry and died championing Greek independence. Mrs May is the opposite type: dull, dutiful and safe. Corbyn is more Byronic, at least in the eyes of his supporters. But he is mad, bad

and would be dangerous to our country— if he were ever allowed to lead it.