It had come billed as the great set-piece of the parliamentary week. Month even. With Rishi Sunak away in Germany – strange how the prime minister so often finds the only free slot in his diary is a Wednesday – prime minister’s questions was delegated to the two deputies.

It was the first time Oliver Dowden and Angela Rayner had had a chance to go head to head since the Daily Mail had taken a voyeuristic interest in the possibility that Labour’s deputy leader had failed to pay capital gains tax on the sale of a home. There are now reportedly 12 police officers investigating the disputed £1.4K. Obviously a terrific use of resources. Beats solving burglaries any day.

But news of this epic encounter appeared to have escaped many Tory MPs. The government backbenches were unexpectedly empty as the clock ticked round to noon. And even emptier half an hour later. Dowden’s reputation precedes him. He is a man destined to lose even when he holds a rigged deck.

His uselessness is near total. The only reason he was found a safe seat back in 2015 was because David Cameron was so desperate to get rid of him from No 10, where he had achieved the legendary status of world’s worst special adviser. If there was any justice he would have been sent to the Slough House for crap politicians. Just about the only thing he can do without messing up is open fetes. And that’s touch and go.

Once in parliament, Olive was expected to remain a nonentity backbencher. A younger, less adequate version of Michael Fabricant. What no one had banked on was the Tory party’s capacity for self-destruction. To fail at an even faster rate than Dowden himself. So eventually the Conservatives ran out of credible MPs and found they were left with no option but to make him a minister. Now he’s been elevated to the non-job of deputy prime minister, where he can do the least harm. The Dunning-Kruger effect in action.

Usually Keir Starmer takes his place several minutes before the prime minister, which allows Rish! to soak up the hollow cheers of the Tory benches alone. The homeopathic memories of cheers past. The last hurrahs of the condemned men and women. But this time, Rayner delayed her entrance, hanging back beside the speaker’s chair flanked by Rachel Reeves and Lucy Powell, her loyal outriders. Only when Olive made his move did Angela follow suit. It felt almost gladiatorial. Except it was the most one-sided contest in living memory.

How Dowden can be quite so useless is something only he can really fathom. Except he can’t. He lacks the wherewithal. Even in his own family, he comes bottom of the pile. Well below the dog in both intelligence and everyone’s affections. Were he to face off against his mutt at PMQs, he would still come off comfortably second best. Losing hounds down. More compassionate people might even feel sorry for Olive, except he doesn’t lend himself to the kindness of strangers. He’s too naturally pleased with himself. It’s a mystery why.

Rayner began by dealing with the elephant in the room. She was more than aware that the Tories were obsessed with her living arrangements, so maybe they could tear their eyes away for a minute and concentrate on how the rest of the country were living. When was the government going to end no-fault evictions?

“G-g-gosh,” said Olive, hastily reaching for the list of pre-scripted gags in the back of his folder that had been written by some of his carers. Thanks to Rish!’s reluctance to do PMQs himself, this was the fifth time they had met across the dispatch box in the past year. Maybe she could now claim the Commons as her primary residence. Boom boom! It’s the way he tells them. Along with the stupid grin. The Tory benches laughed in desperation as much as anything.

Believe it or not, that was the high point of Dowden’s day. After that, he was just scrabbling around with crap gags and crapper claims. He was going to abolish no-fault evictions in a matter of hours. NO YOU AREN’T, OLIVE. WHY DID YOU EVEN SAY THAT? He was massively on top of leasehold reforms. NO YOU AREN’T. No one had built more affordable homes than Andy Street in Birmingham. NO HE HASN’T. HE’S BUILT 46 IN EIGHT YEARS. Pathetic really.

Any nerves that Rayner might have had were gone by now. She went in for the kill. Did he ever wonder who had crashed the economy two years ago that he was now claiming to be in the process of rebuilding? And did he ever regret stabbing Boris Johnson in the back to install a pint-sized loser? Heightism appears to be the last acceptable prejudice. Though it might have been more effective to point out that Sunak’s compassionate cruelty had failed on four of his five promises and he was destined to be out of a job within months. But either way, Dowden was still toast. Yet another Labour asset sitting on the government benches.

Next up was Grant Shapps, who had commandeered an RAF jet to fly back from Poland. Without Jeremy Hunt, of course. Why make one unnecessary plane journey – what’s wrong with BA? – when you can make two? Grant was in the Commons to make a statement on increasing defence spending to 2.5% by 2030. A ridiculous piece of performative politics as everyone knows the Tories aren’t going to be in power to implement it. Still, it gave the Shappster licence to talk nonsense.

Still, there are few politicians better at wasting people’s time than Shapps. You frequently have to pinch yourself to remember that a fantasist with multiple identities can be given such a serious job as defence secretary. Like Dowden he’s risen without trace. Imagine the safety of the country in the hands of someone who can’t remember who he is pretending to be today. It’s like letting Doctor Strangelove loose with nukes. Terrifying really. Especially when we are apparently now on a war footing.

“We’re living in a much more dangerous world,” Shapps began. We don’t need reminding. And your resignation would make it a whole lot safer. He then went on an elaborate tour of an imaginary universe full of imaginary soldiers and imaginary money. Even as an election party political broadcast it failed spectacularly. Taking Shapps seriously is just too much of a conceptual leap.

Labour’s John Healey tried his best to do so. He’s rather obliged to, as he’s the defence secretary in waiting. He dismantled the imaginary extra £75bn as the product of a deranged innumerate mind. If you can call it that. He pointed out that the spending commitments were almost entirely unfunded. The Shappster’s promise to sack 72,000 equality officers in the civil service was just absurd. Why hadn’t the Tories bothered to cost this properly in the last budget? Obviously because they are now reduced to making things up as they go along.

Grant just smiled. He often does. He was going to be all right after the next election. Something would turn up. It always did for people like him. Or Michael Green. Or Sebastian Fox.