Inside the bubble with Ed and David

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As students rioted along Whitehall, the bubble over the Palace of Westminster remained impervious.

Worried about those soon-to-rise tuition fees?

Prime minister’s question time was not there to help.

Instead the leaders of Britain’s two largest political parties used the mother of all parliaments' hallowed debating chamber to argue who had been a worse special adviser at the Treasury.

Both are career politicians, you see.

The junior common room debating society has hardly seen worse; this was playground stuff.

Ed Miliband and David Cameron merrily flicked metaphorical v-signs at other with Miliband declaring that he was happy to debate his record any time the prime minister wanted.

Step outside posh boy, or something to that effect.

Labour MPs looked thrilled to be reminded that David Cameron had worked for Norman Lamont in 1992 as the country lurched into Black Wednesday.

They then sat motionless when Cameron told delighted Tory MPs that Ed Miliband had been the restraining voice at the Treasury when Gordon Brown declared an end to "boom and bust".

The more they argued the more they looked the same, Nick Clegg might have once said.

But instead, as at every Wednesday, Clegg and his fellow Liberal Democrats really didn’t know where to look.

Instead they did their now familiar PMQs act of looking mildly irrelevant.

The session began convivially for the Labour leader, as Cameron congratulated Miliband on the both of his son Samuel with a nice – if signposted joke. "I know what it’s like,’ said the prime minister. ‘The noise; the mess; the chaos; trying to get the children to shut up…I’m sure he’s glad to have had two weeks away from it."

Miliband tried his best with a mildly provocative response, thanking Cameron for the "generous gifts" which he had sent the growing Miliband family.

"Declare!" came the cries from the backbenches.

Light-hearted stuff, but only briefly.

We then had more proof that the spats between Miliband and Cameron are becoming personal, or at least that the Tory leader is keen to make them personal.

The Labour leader’s recent declaration that his party’s policy was a "blank sheet of paper" has been wheeled out more than once this week: not much use at the G20, barked Cameron.

There had actually been a fairly decent exchange on the government’s decision to axe a stream of school sport funding – Miliband dismissed education secretary Michael Gove as "high-handed, incompetent and unfair"; Gove looked unabashed.

Cameron didn’t listen; for now he doesn’t need to.

Questions from backbenchers Bill Cash (Con) on Europe on Julian Hupper (Lib Dem) on immigration were similarly dismissed.

Six months in, self–confidence is pulsing through the prime minister.

Occasionally it tempts him into unattractive territory.

Yesterday he tried out a new line, calling Miliband the "nowhere man" of British politics.

It didn’t sound particularly nice or clever, but the tactic is clear: the leader of the opposition is being painted as pointless by the Tory leader.

From generous baby gifts to an irrelevant nowhere man in the space of 15 minutes.

Times remain tough for the Labour leader – no wonder he’s happier debating his distant past.

Sam Macrory is political editor of The House Magazine.

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