David Cameron rattled by two Eds

news from Libya was grim. So naturally the Commons knew what it had to concentrate on: Ed "Edward" Miliband's wedding. David Cameron kicked off by congratulating Ed and Justine on the happy news and wished them a long and happy life together. Then he said he hadn't ruled out arming the Libyan rebels. Seconds later we were back with the nuptials. The Labour leader said that he might ask the prime minister for advice on his stag night – "I know he knows how to organise one!"

Eh? Was the Cameron stag night notorious? Had it been like a meeting of the Bullingdon Club without the genteel refinement? Mr Cameron – anything to avoid the subject of Libya – said that when he was leader of the opposition, he had longed for a honeymoon, "and you probably feel the same way".

I thought again that politicians are like rugby players. On the field you are allowed to grab someone round the knees and bring them crashing to the ground. But if you did that to the same man in the street, he would call a policeman (if he could find one after the cuts). Deep down politicians, like rugby players, have more in common with each other than with us.

Ed Miliband got on to the squeezed middle, Britain's gastric band. He knows that floating voters are deeply worried about health cuts, police cuts and universal £9,000 tuition fees. They imagine lying on a hospital trolley while burglars strip their homes, and their children sweep streets to put themselves through a university whose star course is in sandwich-making. And no university wants to be the Lidl of the academic world. They need to be like Waitrose – reassuringly expensive.

As Mr Miliband pressed, the prime minister became ratty. He reminded us of the Labour leader's speech in Hyde Park, when he compared the crowd to the civil rights movement. He could imagine no more ridiculous spectacle than the leader of the opposition speaking against the very cuts he had made necessary.

"I know Martin Luther King had a dream, but it's time you woke up." (Possibly on platform 4 at Stevenage, with a toilet seat round his neck and vomit on his trousers, if he has a Cameron-style stag night.)

Finally the prime minister snapped. Edward "Ed" Balls had been sledging him, yelling that he wasn't properly briefed. "I wish the shadow chancellor would occasionally shut up!" he barked. At this a mighty roar came from all sides – from Tories who hate and fear Balls, and Labour people who feel much the same way. "Am I alone in finding him the most annoying person in modern politics?" Mr Cameron asked. "And I have a feeling the leader of the opposition will one day agree with me!" (He probably already does.)

It was over and Mr Cameron stalked off, possibly to find a rotten kipper to put on the Milibands' engine block for when they leave the reception.