A miserable process even Jeffrey Archer would hesitate to put in a novel unravelled 10 years of success built upon lies
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Chris Huhne and Vicky Pryce arrive seperately for sentencing at Southwark crown court. Photograph: AFP/Getty Images
In online 24/7 Britain everyone can have their say in a case like Huhne and Price versus the Crown and Each Other. Cruel or compassionate, the pundits and the Tweeters have delivered their verdicts. So eventually did a jury. At 4.45 on Monday afternoon came Judge Nigel Sweeney's turn and from the start his tone was severe and ominously even-handed towards the convicted pair. And so it proved.
To get that far it had taken almost exactly 10 years since the fateful M11 speeding offence and nearly three years since the point swapping's exposure. It took a further two and a half hours on Monday as a trio of barristers regurgitated the salient facts of the case to prove remorse (or the opposite), reduce the defendants' costs (or increase them) and to advance mitigation. That didn't cut much ice with Judge Sweeney either.
During this miserable process, Chris Huhne and Vicky Pryce sat five very lonely feet apart in the dock, for the most part impassive apart from the odd scratch or uncrossing of legs, both of them looking deeply unhappy. She offered a wan smile to no one in particular when she took her chair. Huhne was once close to tears, according to someone with a good view. When he arrived, the former cabinet minister attempted eye contact, which the former wife evaded. He did not try again. Yet all vituperation seemed gone, all defiance drained. No more escape plans, too late for excuses – this was it.
Both wore black suits like the professional people they are, albeit in circumstances which even Jeffrey Archer would hesitate to put into a novel. What a lot these two high-minded liberals would have to discuss with the great Tory chancer if they ever bump into him at the theatre, or that other fallen cabinet grandee, Jonathan Aitken, whose perky advice to politicians facing porridge ("It's tough, but it's not Eton") is now part of their sentence.
From humble magistrates courts to the Old Bailey, courts are usually depressing places. What reckless folly, what greed and stupidity, what legal callousness – above all, what a WASTE! It was the same in claustrophobic court three at Southwark crown court, just west of Tower Bridge. Only exponentially more so. When the judge recalled their "stellar careers", he wasn't being polite.
Success, prestige, money and honours; both Huhne and Pryce had enjoyed a brilliant decade, but it was built on the points-swapping lie which had suited – he kept stressing this bit – both of them; Pryce who took points and didn't want to become a chauffeur, as well as Huhne the ambitious candidate and would-be Lib Dem leader.
Nor had its exposure reflected credit on either of them. He lied – again and again – to cover his deceit, she lied in a vengeful attempt to destroy her estranged husband's career while protecting her own position. Ugly stuff for three penalty points.
Columnists have dug deep into their funds of knowledge to find a comparable case and come up with the Macbeths, the power couple who murdered the Ming Campbell and Charlie Kennedy of the 11th century. It is something the Huhnes had only ever attempted via the ballot box, leaving Nick Clegg to play the coalition's Malcolm in last night's Lib Dem party broadcast. Classical scholars delved deeper (circa 400BC) and came up with Medea's revenge on her faithless husband, Jason, after he ran off with a popsie. It raises the prospect that the ancient crime of hubris – over-mighty pride – will now become Huhnebris at our more expensive universities.
Of the two options, Judge Sweeney seemed to think he had the Macbeths up for sentencing. Yes, as their lawyers had said, they had both fallen from great heights, suffered public disgrace and media vilification, and it was all very unpleasant.
"But any element of tragedy is entirely your own fault," he added before giving them both eight months – a bit tough on Pryce, according to old legal lags at the back of court three.
When he said "the defendants can go down," neither showed emotion or looked at each other. Huhne paused and walked, and Pryce followed with a slight nod to the judge. Neither had said a word.
Was there anything in the day's drama which redeemed its sad ugliness? One or two fragments to comfort the battered political class as it binds up its wounded honour (again). Contrary to mysterious predictions in the Sunday papers, neither Huhne nor his lawyer, John Kelsey-Fry QC, attacked his ex-wife's character, they merely repudiated "strenuously" her claim that he had tried get her to abort their youngest child. In doing so, he signalled a wish to be reconciled with his children, collateral damage in the war between the Huhnes. There were also character witnesses to match those called by Pryce during her trial. There was family, plus a peer and an ex-MP, Bob Marshall Andrews, the underdog's overdog, as well as an ex-girlfriend from Oxford who confirmed that he really wasn't an arrogant or aloof bully in private.
But the warmest moment on a rather chilly day in court three came from a Labour activist in Eastleigh. Brian admired his ex-MP's strenuous constituency record and had worked to re-elect him. Why, Huhne had even sent a tenner to Brian's dying uncle to repay a bet he'd lost. It's Eastleigh's loss, too, Brian's letter told the court – which sent him down anyway.