asked a different question. I don't recall mentioning His Majesty. It is entirely a matter between him and the Palace if the Prime Minister chooses to censor and cut to ribbons His Majesty's remarks. I wouldn't dream of raising such matters in this place.' A howl of mockery was hurled towards Urquhart from along the Opposition benches. Beneath her long judicial wig Madam Speaker shook her head in disapproval at such obvious circumvention of the rules of the House, but decided not to intervene. 'So can the Prime Minister get back to the question which was actually asked, rather than the one he wishes had been asked, and give a straight question a straight answer?'
Opposition MPs were pointing fingers at Urquhart, trying to get under his skin. 'He's chicken, running away!' exclaimed one. 'Can't face up to it,' said another. 'Happy Christmas, Francis,' mocked a third. Most simply rocked back and forth on the leather benches in delight at the Prime Minister's discomfort. Urquhart glanced at the Speaker, hoping she might slap down such conduct and with it the entire discussion, but she had suddenly found something of great interest to study on her Order Paper. Urquhart was on his own.
The purpose of the question is clear. My answer remains the same.'
There was pandemonium now as the Opposition Leader rose for the third time. He leaned with one elbow on the Dispatch Box for many long moments without speaking, savouring the state of passion of his audience, waiting for the din to die, enjoying the sight of Urquhart impaled on his hook.
‘I have no way of knowing what passed between the Prime Minister and the Palace. I know only what I read in the newspapers' - he waved a copy of the Sun for the benefit of the television cameras - 'and I have long ceased to believe anything I read there. But the question is simple. Such concerns about the growth of division within our society are shared by millions of ordinary people, whether or not they are held by those, shall we say, somewhat less than ordinary. But if the Prime Minister is having trouble with the question, let me rephrase it. Does he agree' - McKillin glanced down, a copy of the Telegraph now in his hand - 'with the sentiment that we cannot rest content while tens of thousands of our fellow citizens sleep rough on our streets, through no fault of their own? Does he accept that in a truly United Kingdom the sense of belonging of unemployed crofters in the Scottish Highlands is just as vital as that of home-owners in the southern suburbs? Would he support the view that it is a sign for concern rather than congratulation if more people drive our streets in Rolls-Royces while the disabled in their wheelchairs are left in the gutters, still unable to catch a Number 57 bus?' Everyone recognized the words which had been hijacked from the censored speech. 'And if he doesn't like those questions, I've got lots more.'
They were baiting Urquhart now. They didn't want answers, just blood, and in parliamentary terms they were getting it. Yet Urquhart knew that once he responded to any point concerning the King's speech he would lose all control of the matter, that he would be open to attack without restraint.
‘I will not be drawn. Particularly by a pack of jackals.' From the Government backbenches, which had grown increasingly quiet during the exchanges, came a growl of support. This was more like the exchanges they were used to handling, and insults began to fly freely across the Chamber as Urquhart continued, shouting to make himself heard above the din. 'Before he takes his pretence of interest in the plight of the homeless and unemployed too far, perhaps the Right Honourable Gentleman should have a word with his trade union paymasters and tell them to stop pushing through inflationary pay claims which only force decent citizens out of their jobs and out of their homes.' The roar was almost deafening. 'He greets the problems of others with all the relish of a grave digger!'
It was an adept attempt at self-preservation. The insults had at last dragged attention away from the question and a tide of protest swept across the Chamber creating waves of heaving arms and invective which crashed like surf on either side. The Opposition Leader was back on his feet for a fourth attempt but Madam Speaker, conscious that perhaps she should have done more to