Of all the trauma and self-applied uplift experienced by the Chancellor this troubled week, one moment stands out for me by far.

Not, directly, the episode of her crying in the Commons. Nor yet, directly, the chaotic scenes when the government of which she is financial steward caved in over welfare reform.

Rather, I feel drawn to the aftermath. The forced smile, the reassurance aimed at markets. That plus the concession that there is a cost associated with the Commons retreat – “and that will be reflected in the budget”.

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A throwaway phrase – but one rich with intent. In the autumn we will all witness spending curbs – or tax increases. Or both. As a consequence of this week’s events.

But first those tears. We should all extend sympathy to a fellow being in evident distress. Mostly, the House would assuredly do that, within limits.

In the Commons, there is a commonality of feeling which straddles partisan division. There are more connections and friendships across the aisles than would be thought from the bogus sound and fury of what passes for Parliamentary discourse.

The role of MP can be a relatively lonely one. A tribune of the people, yet subject to the whims and discontent of the electorate. The only ones who truly understand the stresses and strains of the job are other MPs. Hence the fellow feeling.

And those limits? On the subject of the Chancellor’s discomfiture, I chanced to be on the wireless broadcasting to an astonished nation alongside Christine Jardine, the Liberal Democrat MP.

Christine Jardine (Image: PA)

She said that she had witnessed the tears – and had felt........

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