In 5 seconds of unbridled opposition, Sir Keir Starmer boldly announced, ‘the return of Tory sleaze’.

As Gerry Adams might say, ‘it never went away, you know’.

Most pertinently, anybody who has missed the relentless asset-stripping of the UK since lockdowns must be in the unrelenting clutches of a hardcore ketamine habit.

All this ring-fenced enquiry nonsense is just to protect and deflect from wider, meatier claims and to hit Cameron hard in the ring. That’s love/hate Eton rivalries for you.

It reminds me about the enquiry that Himmler set up in Auschwitz when the camp guards were displaying dodgy tax discs.

All this Eton-rifling through the nation’s pockets pretty much lays bare the present motivation for political service.

Well-heeled types pack themselves off to Parliament much like the working classes consigned themselves to the call centre sheep-dip in the 1990s.

Nobody does anything meritorious, but it pays the bills and offers the opportunity to pick up some transferable skills and contacts which can all be mercilessly rinsed while they fill in the time between secondary education and retirement.

In both milieux, a free rein to motivated shysters is going to herald some loot-driven skulduggery.

The one saving grace for Cameron is that he wasn’t caught complementing his navy-blue suit with a pair of brown shoes at the Saudi barbecue. That’s worth a public enquiry on its own, not to mention a solid beating.

Arguably, the principal issue with sleaze – and I’ve fallen foul of this – is the word itself.

‘Sleaze’ is immoral and sordid behaviour, like cutting out the pockets of your brown raincoat so that you can knock one out in Tesco while sniffing after Ugg-booted MILFs.

This is corruption, embezzlement, theft, and fraud, and it’s everywhere in both Parliament and the Civil Service.

And it won’t be stopping any time soon…