Where’s Rishi? (Part … You tell me). I’ve rather lost count. But we must be well into double figures. Yet again, when the prime minister had the opportunity to demonstrate his own integrity, professionalism and accountability he was missing in action. Here was the chance to turn up to the debate on the special report by the privileges committee on the behaviour of seven of his MPs during the inquiry into Boris Johnson lying to parliament. He didn’t need to make a long speech. Just a couple of sentences to say that he accepted the committee’s findings. Asking his MPs to apologise would have been a bonus. But no. Rishi Sunak was nowhere to be seen anywhere near the Commons. Then he seldom is. Perhaps he’s phobic. In which case, someone please find him a good therapist. I could recommend a few. He even wanted it on record that he couldn’t possibly comment on the report, as he hadn’t read it. Though it’s only a few pages long and you’d have thought he might have an interest in the misdeeds of his own party. And he had managed to ask Zac Goldsmith, who had also been named, to say sorry without apparently knowing what for. Go figure. And he had also made sure his flight to Vilnius for the Nato summit left a few hours early so he could miss the vote. So brave. An inspiration to us all. So it was left to Penny Mordaunt, the leader of the house, to open the debate for the government. Behind her on the Tory benches were six of the accused. Jacob Rees-Mogg, Priti Patel, Andrea Jenkyns, Michael Fabricant, Mark Jenkinson and Brendan Clarke-Smith. There was no sign of Nadine Dorries. There never is. She’s even more of a stranger to the Commons than Rish! She keeps threatening to resign as an MP but never does. Just sobs and sighs over the peerage that never was. Can’t think why she was overlooked. Mordaunt got the debate under way with a brief statement. The privileges committee performed an important role in parliament. There was nothing wrong with constructive criticism of the committee but this had gone way beyond that. Its reputation had been impugned with sustained interference. She wanted an end to the whole sorry episode. If Lord Castlereagh and George Canning could be polite to each other after fighting a duel, was it too much to hope today’s MPs could do likewise? She hoped those who had been named would reflect on their actions. Fat chance. Rather they all looked ready to double down. As did many of their supporters in the Commons. Thangam Debbonaire, the shadow leader, had barely started her speech in reply than the interventions began to pile up. Desmond Swayne demanded proof that there had been a coordinated campaign to undermine the committee. He was adamant that it had all been a total coincidence. Just like it was a total coincidence that more than half – not to mention the Desperate Dorries – of those accused had ended up on Johnson’s resignation honours list. Parliament moves in mysterious ways. You’d have Des down as one of the dimmer MPs. Though that would have been a disservice to Andrea Jenkyns, who would speak later. She can only aspire to mediocrity. Talking of which … Next up was Lia Nici. Was it fair that the Not-So Secret Seven had been investigated without their knowledge? What should have happened was that they all should have been told they were to be named before they had been given a chance to impugn the committee. They would have been given an opportunity not to say the things they had said. It’s not clear which space-time continuum Nici is on. Safe to say it’s not one that contains other sentient beings. So Craig Mackinlay is probably on it. His telling contribution was to say that Johnson was so last week and it was time for everyone to forget about everything that might have happened. The calibre of MPs speaking out for the right to trash the committee was – let’s call it niche. With friends like these … First of the accused to speak was Jacob Rees-Mogg. In his mind, he is an iconoclast. A comedic and intellectual giant. In reality, he’s just delusional. A tired bore. A man stuck in an imagined Oxbridge of his youth. It had all just been a piece of fun. The epitome of free speech. All he had ever done was offer mild criticism. A committee member, Allan Dorans, had to remind him he had accused the committee of being a kangaroo court – corrupt – and that he and other members had had to review their security. Rees-Mogg just ploughed on. Getting laughs from the intellectually challenged but disapproval from the rest of the House. He should learn to read the room. He had imagined the clerks would be swooning that he had found fault with Erskine May. They weren’t. They looked totally fed up. Rees-Mogg would have done better to have simply apologised for overstepping the mark. But that would have taken some class. Something Jakey lacks. It was all just a game to him. But he was only the first in line. Jenkinson interrupted Harriet Harman, the committee chair who had been explaining how the committee had reached its conclusions, to say that he had never called the inquiry a witch-hunt. It was pointed out to him he had used those exact words in a tweet. Oh, he said. That tweet. He had been referring to a completely different witch-hunt even though the Twitter thread clearly referenced the privileges committee. So it went on. Fabricant was adamant he hadn’t said the committee was riddled with “malice and prejudice”. That was a fantasy from a parallel universe. He talks of honour, when he has none. Patel denied all knowledge of impugning the committee. That had only happened on GB News so it also can’t have happened. Or if it did then nobody saw it, which was much the same. The real baddy in all this was the Guardian for reporting the committee’s findings. So it was my fault all along. Then came Andrea. She at least had a legitimate defence. She was too stupid to remember what she had and hadn’t said and so she couldn’t apologise for anything. Several MPs had to talk her down. Too much psilocybin. Or something. It was all too shabby for words. Long before the end, Harman looked to be in tears. Unable to get most Tories even to say sorry. This parliament and this government have gone on plenty long enough. Depraved New World by John Crace (Guardian Faber, £16.99) is available to pre-order. To support The Guardian and Observer, order your copy at guardianbookshop.com. Delivery charges may apply.