In the glare of the political spotlight, Jimmy Dimly found himself apologizing not for words he had spoken, but for a turbulent turn of events that thrust him into an unwelcome spotlight. The once carefree foreign secretary, jet-setting around the globe to collect photo souvenirs with world leaders, now faces the storm's center.

His former cushy role demanded little more than a friendly smile and the ability to recite the mantra of a peaceful two-state solution. No world crises required his attention, and global affairs seemed more like a distant backdrop for a self-soothing narrative. Cleverly's job was, in essence, a role in international feel-good theater, where no one paid much attention to the script.

Yet, the tables have turned. Cleverly now grapples with a hospital pass, thrown his way first with a doomed Rwanda policy and then with immigration figures that stirred discontent among the ranks of his party. Facing the fallout from a policy he himself labeled as "batshit" and navigating the ire of those who prefer national disarray over foreign-staffed essential services, Dimly wears the defensive look of a politician under siege.

As he steps into the Commons for his first Home Office departmental questions, his eyes scan the chambers, assessing potential threats from both opposition and government benches. The looming question of trouble, perhaps even from his own immigration minister, hangs in the air. The once seemingly straightforward role of projecting a positive image on the global stage has morphed into a tangled web of challenges for Jimmy Dimly.

Fortunately, Robert Jenrick maintained a veneer of decorum in the political arena. Honest Bob, as he's known, has undergone a transformation since his early days as a loyal supporter of Big Dave's every whim. Back in 2014, when he first stepped into the political arena, Honest Bob was the archetypal Cameron loyalist. His convictions were a mere echo of the party line, mirroring whatever Big Dave uttered.

However, Honest Bob's political journey has been one devoid of principles, marked by a relentless pursuit of personal gain. From assisting the controversial Tory donor and pornographer, Richard "Dirty" Desmond, with planning permissions to adopting whatever stance the boss class dictated, Honest Bob has showcased a chameleon-like adaptability. Rwanda, once a distant concern, became a source of perverse pleasure aligned with a coveted cabinet position.

When pressed by Tory James Morris about the government's stance on Rwanda—previously heralded by Suella as the end goal and later dismissed by Cleverly as just one of several ideas—Honest Bob shied away from dissent. True to form, he uttered what was expedient rather than principled. His previous fervent endorsement of Rwanda as a linchpin in the government's migration policy was now reduced to a Freudian slip, a verbal misstep of little consequence.

The heavy lifting on the Supreme Court judgment fell to Jimmy D, who faced the surreal expectations of Tory members like Miriam Cates, Jack Brereton, and Simon Clarke. Their fantastical hopes that reality could be molded to their desires left Dimly politely coughing. The extent of the Tory madness became evident, with little consideration given to the fact that Rwanda might not be amenable to a treaty allowing the UK to dictate terms or that Rwanda might deem the UK an unsafe partner.

The remainder of the session saw Jimmy D escaping relatively unscathed, with neither side of the house eager to broach the sensitive topic of migration statistics. Brexit remains the untold truth for both Conservatives and Labour, conveniently sidestepped, perhaps because no one in government has a clear strategy for addressing the complex issue of migration.

However, Dimly's political drama was far from over. He reappeared 45 minutes later, summoned by a point of order from Alex Cunningham. The Labour MP sought an apology from Cleverly, accusing him of stretching the truth. Instead of owning up to labeling his Stockton constituency a "shithole," Cleverly attempted to spin a different tale, insisting that he had only criticized Cunningham as a "shit MP." This feeble defense crumbled under scrutiny, given Cleverly's initial denial and the stark disparity with the recorded audio.

Dimly's attempts at justification were less than compelling, mirroring the surreal logic of the Rwanda debacle. Cunningham hesitated, caught between accepting an apology for something that wasn't said and the undeniable reality captured on tape. Dimly, now indignant, asserted his word's sanctity, displaying an inflated sense of self-importance with no outlet.

The tension escalated as Dimly challenged anyone to doubt his integrity, staunchly denying utterances that were indisputably on record. The Labour MP found himself in a quandary—calling Dimly a liar had its complexities, given the unspoken rules of parliamentary decorum. The deputy speaker intervened, proposing a theatrical compromise: pretend the apology was merely for the utterance of the word "shit" and imagine an unruly alter ego within Dimly, responsible for putting words in his mouth. It unfolded into a farce, a charade where everyone knew the unvarnished truth, yet parliament opted to treat the public like gullible bystanders. In this political arena, honor often took precedence over unadulterated truth, leaving observers bewildered in a maze of theatricality.

For more insights into the intricate world of British politics, John Crace's book "Depraved New World" (Guardian Faber, £16.99) is available now. To support the Guardian and Observer, order your copy and enjoy an 18% discount at guardianbookshop.com. Delivery charges may apply. Additionally, mark your calendars for Monday, December 11th, 8 pm-9:30 pm GMT, as John Crace, Marina Hyde, and Pippa Crerar engage in a livestream discussion on another tumultuous year in British politics. Book your tickets at theguardian.live or through the official website.

In conclusion, the political theater surrounding Dimly and Cleverly reached a surreal climax, emblematic of a system where appearances often outweigh the unvarnished truth. Dimly's defiance, insisting on apologies for things left unsaid or distorted, echoed the earlier Rwanda fiasco. The attempt to navigate the delicate balance between parliamentary decorum and acknowledging recorded evidence left observers bewildered.

As the deputy speaker proposed a theatrical compromise, it underscored the disconnection between political posturing and the undeniable reality captured on tape. The farcical nature of the proceedings exposed a willingness in parliament to treat the public as mere onlookers in a staged drama where honor and political maneuvering often trumped the pursuit of unadulterated truth.

In the larger context, this episode reflects the ongoing challenges within British politics, where the intricacies of language and a commitment to appearances sometimes overshadow the substance of issues at hand. John Crace's book, "Depraved New World," offers further insights into this complex and often bewildering landscape, providing readers with a closer look at the dynamics shaping the corridors of power.