The Sketch: Simon Carr

None of us is perfect. The Sketch knows this because it is omniscient (its only flaw). Therefore, don't take this bet however attractive it seems now. Tony Blair's hair loss will mirror the decline of his support in the party; in 4.7 years, he will end this parliament bald to the line of his ears, and on the backbench.

Many factors will play a part. The failure of public money to get through to the front line. Scandals from badly-let contracts. Union mobilisation. Strikes. Tax rises. Public service decay, despite the billions. And a management model increasingly taken from the fourth and fifth act of Shakespeare's Macbeth. The coup will come from the parliament that Downing Street has so despised. They won't know until it's too late because they've created the weakest whips office in the party's history and moved it out of Downing Street. Goodness knows, if you were Tony Blair, you wouldn't expect Blairites to die in a ditch for you. Dying isn't something Blairites do. They merely reconstitute themselves.

To more cheerful matters. It was Prime Minister's questions and William Hague was magnificent. Indeed, so was everyone else. The opposition to Tony Blair is starting to come in Circlorama. There were Mssrs Winnick, Skinner, Clwyd and Mullin from behind, Charles Kennedy coming in from 2 o'clock, and Hague from the front. There were only two and a half patsies (which is what happens when you eviscerate the whips).

Freed from the shackles of office, sacked Chris Mullin asked Mr Blair to tell George Bush the truth (sic). The missile defence scheme was madcap, the real threat to world security was climate change, the Aids pandemic, and impoverishment caused by the unfair working of the global market (laughter, cheers, a sharp intake of breath from the gallery).

Denis Skinner didn't try to be funny for once: no jokes in the disabled. And David Winnick offered a frank threat. The proposals for tests for disability beneficiaries must be consulted upon. "We wouldn't want a row. Would we?" he asked, with theatrical significance. That was new.

And in the matter of the NHS, Mr Hague operated surgically, experimentally and without recourse to anaesthetic.

"Whose fault is it that the government policy on involving the private sector in the NHS is totally unclear?" he asked. He itemised a list of accusers from the professions, the unions and the Labour party: "Cocktail of policy confusion" being a memorable phrase from the TGWU.

Each charge went home to its target: to the government backbench. They sat back grimly. The prime minister has never taken the precaution of telling his troops what his plans for health are. He's merely told them not to believe what they read in the newspapers. They hate that. After some preparatory evasiveness, Mr Blair said firmly: "There is no intention, as we've said throughout, to privatise clinical services."

His backbench knew exactly what this meant. They're going to privatise clinical services.

Mr Hague then read aloud from the government's Concordat with the private sector, where it says the NHS will be able to commission clinical services directly from private providers. Was that still the position? Mr Blair agreed it was.

"Saying no to a question and then yes to the same question a moment later does not constitute a clear policy!" he laughed, winningly. It wasn't quite fair, but it was indeed a win. You could see it in the faces of old, older and ancient Labour.

Meanwhile, in the back alleys of the Commons, the chancellor works the tearooms. Parliament is interesting again.

simoncarr75@hotmail.com