By the middle of Monday afternoon, it had the word “inevitable” stamped across it. Michael Martin’s ample girth, that is.

After such a mumbling, embarrassing, clumsy statement and follow-up there was no way the man could continue in the role of Commons Speaker. So yesterday’s news was no real surprise.

Yes, you could almost feel sorry for him as he battled with what little will he had left, last week’s red-faced anger just an ember and those “order, order” mutterings which by this week were unnecessary but an instinctive part of what he has done for the past eight years.

It was a pretty sad sight. The inevitable conclusion was clear: ­ Mr Martin had indeed lost any vestige of remaining authority.

But this recent Whitehall farce, from the acquisition of light bulbs and feather dusters to outrageous moat cleaning and swimming pool maintenance, merely brought things to a head.

Actually, Parliament is a disgrace, an opportunist’s paradise. There will be, ­ or should be, ­ other heads to roll from all benches. Speaker Martin is just the first big noise for the chop.

But over his years in the honoured chair, there have been complaints of his irritability, taking sides when he should be above all of that and, ­ as shown last week, ­ turning on members who actually had the temerity to disagree with him.

While he is far from being alone, his own expenditure thanks to us has also been eye-popping and lavish. So the wheels have turned inexorably to this unparalleled resignation.

Maybe a new culture of openness and this transparency about which on all sides they are suddenly bleating, will indeed make for a more healthy environment.

Every single one of them round every ancient Westminster portal needs to know this: We elect you, we pay for you and we are watching.