The hands on the clock in the House of Commons tea room are missing. I don’t suspect foul play. But I don’t know when they disappeared. It could have been weeks ago for all I know, as I’ve made most of my speeches in parliament since January from my own little private corner of parliamentary privilege, aka our spare room in Porth, in the Rhondda. All I’ve seen of my colleagues this year are their head and shoulders on Zoom calls or on the vast screens that relay virtual speeches and questions to the chamber. Some shielding MPs have not set foot in Westminster for a full 12 months and I feel I know MPs’ spare bedrooms better than I know them. Does that matter? Yes, I want to scream. Politics is a social affair. It’s all about how we interact with and depend on one another. The best decisions tend to be made when the people in power are put on their mettle. But this year’s mutant variant of parliament has had a virulent effect on politics, slaying spontaneity and rendering everything ter...