A week of sheer hell for the Tory leader. Plots and rumours have swirled around Westminster. Rebels are said to be roaming the corridors and gathering support for an anti-Liz putsch. And yet she’s still here. Our death-row Prime Minister strode into the chamber apparently dressed for her own funeral. Black trouser suit, white cotton blouse.

She got into trouble as soon as she opened her mouth. Her ritual answer, ‘I will be meeting ministerial colleagues and others’ brought howls of laughter from the Labour benches. Sir Keir Starmer stood up to deliver a brief and fatal inquisition. He began with a pun about a book covering her career which will be ‘out by Christmas’.

But, he wondered, will ‘out by Christmas’ be the title or the release date? The gag crashed because it’s too carefully prepared. And a pun works better when the words are visible and not just audible. He had better lines. ‘How can she be held to account when she’s not in charge?’ and ‘What’s the point of a Prime Minister whose promises don’t last a week?’

She fought back. ‘I’m prepared to front up,’ she said. ‘I’m prepared to take tough decisions.’ She repeated that she was for sorry for her ‘mistakes’ and she quoted Peter Mandelson: ‘I’m a fighter and not a quitter.’ Sir Keir, she said, had failed to object to any of her new policies. Nor had he condemned the upcoming rail strikes.

‘He has no plan!’ she crowed. Which is true in comparison with Liz who has a new plan every five minutes. She believes there are two virtues in her U-turnery. A quick change of tack can be presented as firm and pragmatic decision-making. And a sincere act of contrition may have the appearance of humility and frankness. These are tenuous claims but Liz stuck with them.

She’s greatly helped by her complete indifference to feeling or emotion. When she said, ‘Mr Speaker I am very clear …’ she was howled at by the entire parliamentary Labour party. But she didn’t care. She just kept bashing on with her statement. Can anything disturb this bland and unblinking sweetness? Sometimes she acts like a cyborg till-operator designed for Tesco by Elon Musk.

It was Sir Keir who surrendered to emotion when he threw one of his petultant tantrums. He imagined a voter facing huge bills and reacting to Liz’s statements of regret. ‘That’s all right!’ shrieked Sir Keir. ‘I don’t mind financial ruin! At least she apologised!’

His anger is telling. If he knew she was done for, he’d play it cool. Beneath the surface he has doubts about her downfall – hence his hysterics. Ian Blackford tried his luck. He listed her economic blunders and accused her of ‘putting pensioners in the front line of Tory cuts.’

Liz did the equivalent of an eye-roll. ‘I honestly don’t know what the honourable gentleman is talking about,’ she huffed. And she repeated her commitment to the triple-lock. Blackford: ‘She’s just thrown 12 million pensioners under the Tory bus!’ She quipped back. ‘He can’t take yes for an answer.’

The Tories laughed at this. Liz had scored a hit. It was a strangely gripping spectacle today as she struggled for survival – like watching a beached haddock bellyflop its way back into the sea.

Net result: Liz has won some time. During most of Monday and Tuesday, she seemed hours from ruin. She may now be safe until the weekend. For her, that’s a triumph.