Move along. Nothing to see here. Of course you have a right to peaceful protest. Just as I have a right to arrest you if I feel like it. So it would be a good idea for you to move quietly behind this grandstand so that the BBC cameras can’t film you. Not that they would. They know their place. Besides, they will never do another royal event if they do. So move along quietly. Is that a Velcro fastener on your jacket? A belt round your waist? Planning to lock on, are we? Then you’re nicked. God save the king. It had all been just a bit of a coincidence. One of those things. You know how it is. You rush through a new Public Order Act and then suddenly find you’ve got a hastily arranged once in a lifetime (TM) – well maybe twice in a lifetime (TM) – coronation to police. God save the king. Imagine the surprise. If only you had had more time to prepare officers for the new legislation then everything would have been OK. So, a few people got thrown in the nick for the best part of a day? Get over yourself. The rest of us had a great day out. Makes you proud to be British banging people up. God save the king. Not everyone felt the same way. Some were queasy that the new Carolean age had been greeted with new limitations on the power to protest. A right that had previously been protected under the Human Rights Act. Now, not so much. So, in the Commons, it was left to the SNP’s Joanna Cherry to ask an urgent question on the policing of the coronation in London. Specifically, how six people who had previously liaised with the police and informed them of their protest should get thrown in the slammer? God save the king. Suella Braverman was nowhere in sight – she seldom is these days, everything is too much trouble for the home secretary – so it was left to her junior, the insufferable Chris Philp, to answer on behalf of the government. Hard to believe, but Philp is getting worse by the day. His incessant brown-nosing means he seldom sees daylight any more and he has quite forgotten exactly what it is he really believes. Then maybe he doesn’t believe in anything except his own advancement. God save the king. It was like this, said Philp, proudly showing off his union jack socks. Not to mention his King Charles Y-Fronts that can play the national anthem. It had been literally the best weekend of everyone’s life. We could all now die happy. No other country could have got so many people to dress up in Star Wars costumes and march more or less in time. So it had been a privilege for us all to have been born British. He paused. Momentarily moved at how touched Prince William had been that he, the Great Philpster, had bothered to attend the service at the abbey. God save the king. It had been a pity that there had been some who wanted to protest. What was wrong with these people? And the police had specifically warned him and Suella on Friday night that they had seen some women with rape alarms and some decorators out with some paint. A clear and present danger to the whole nation. God save the king. Philp had nodded gravely but insisted he absolutely had not told the police how to conduct operations. No need when the Public Order Act had just come in to force. Or when Suella had previously bollocked the Met for not being tough enough on public disorder. It’s what Charles would have wanted. And if six people had been wrongfully arrested out of a few hundred protesters, then it was a price worth paying. Acceptable collateral damage. They should be proud to have been detained on such an auspicious day. God save the king. Labour was keen not to get involved. On Keir Starmer’s instructions. Yvette Cooper remained silent and let her deputy, Sarah Jones, do all the talking. No one was more pro the monarchy than the Labour frontbench. Pierce their skin and their blood ran red, white and blue. They, too, could not believe their luck that God had chosen such a noble king. And the police had done an absolutely marvellous job on the day. But – in a barely audible whisper – it would be nice if they hadn’t arrested six innocent people. Let’s move on quickly. It sometimes feels as if there is almost nothing they wouldn’t say not to rock the boat. God save the king. There were only nine Tory backbenchers in the Commons. Presumably, the others had not yet recovered from overindulging in patriotism. Michael Ellis, a man who can give Philp a run for his money for toadying, suggested that even though the six protesters had not been guilty of a crime, it did not follow they hadn’t been planning to commit one. He is keen on thought crimes. So they were probably guilty of something. The absurd James Daly thought the police had done us a national service. It made people feel good to see others getting arrested. Even if they were innocent. Not that anyone wearing a republic T-shirt could be said to be innocent. Not on a Once in a Lifetime (TM) day like Saturday. God save the king. There were some Tory refuseniks. David Davis reckoned there was cause and effect between the Public Order Act and six people being wrongfully arrested. Unfair, said Philp. The police just hadn’t got round to working out what they were guilty of. God save the king. More surprisingly, Desmond Swayne – never one to usually speak up about civil liberties – thought it suspicious that it took 16 hours for the police to realise they had arrested the wrong people. Just long enough for all the coronation celebrations to come to an end. Philp squirmed. It had taken 16 hours to make sure they were innocent. No point letting them go too soon and then having to rearrest them. Those Velcro hooks weren’t going to investigate themselves. God save the king. The last half hour was taken up with Labour, Lib Dem and SNP MPs raising their disquiet. Very quietly. Very deferentially. Nothing against the king and all that, but maybe it wasn’t a good idea to arrest journalists and members of the public who had permission to protest. Philp got tetchy. Angry even. He had been doing the king’s work. His life and liege. God save the king.