AS I often write, sport has a lot to teach people about life, and especially about character. So if I were a Member of Parliament in Westminster and the Great Buffoon did the right and lawful thing and got the House of Commons working again, I would show the Prime Minister the red card but I would not call him a liar.

By the strange conventions of that weird and wonderful place, no Honourable Member can call another Honourable Member a liar or accuse him or her of lying. It used to be that if an Honourable Member was proven to have told a lie when addressing the House, their career, indeed their tenure of office, ended right there and then. Check out the case of John Profumo for a classic example.

I would not call Johnson or any member of his team a liar but I would look the Prime Minister right in the eye and say: “Sir, you are nothing but a cad and a mountebank, a poltroon and a damned cheat.” I don’t know if that is permitted Parliamentary language, but I’d say it anyway.

The three Scottish judges have the right of it. What Johnson did in suspending Parliament was unlawful and done in a clandestine manner. In other words, he cheated.

He cheated the Queen, he cheated Parliament and he cheated the people of the United Kingdom, whose representatives have been denied the right to properly scrutinise the most important issue that Britain has faced since we entered the Common Market all those years ago.

The question is, what will the Prime Minister do now that he’s been exposed as a cheat? Personally I don’t think his reputation for probity will have been damaged because he didn’t have one anyway, but if he wants an example to follow in how to recover a damaged reputation he could do a lot worse than consider the case of Australian cricketer Steve Smith.

When the history of the 2019 Ashes is written it should simply say England lost to Smith. Even yesterday, with the Ashes already retained, there was Smith dourly grinding out yet another fine innings of 80 before he made a mistake and was out. It was such a rarity to see him make an error that all the commentary was about him – sure sign of a dominant player.

His combination of brilliant hitting, dogged defence and sheer bloody-mindedness, not to mention the occasional bit of bonkers theatrics, has been a joy to watch and his acclaim as player of the series will surely be a formality over the weekend.

Yet just 18 months ago, Smith’s career lay in tatters and his reputation was lower than a Chihuahua’s testicles. With a reputation for sledging and underarm tactics, Australian cricketers have always played the game close to the line of legality, but Smith did not so much step over that line as drive a coach and horses through it.

When the ball-tampering came to light he was exposed as an out-and-out cheat, as he knew what was going on and failed to stop it. He was captain and he should have stopped it, and he rightly felt the opprobrium of almost everyone in sport – except the hundreds of drug-boosted performers in far too many sports.

Smith compounded the felony at first by making out that he only felt sorry for himself and not the colleagues, opponents and spectators that he had robbed by his dishonesty – note to the Prime Minister: that’s what cheating really is, dishonest pure and simple.

Yet reading his words back then they now seem as if he was being honest: “It was a failure of leadership, my leadership.” As well as apologising to his “teammates, to fans of cricket all over the world and to all Australians who are disappointed and angry”, he added, “I know I will regret this for the rest of my life. I’m absolutely gutted. I hope in time I can earn back respect and forgiveness.”

The bit that rang most true for me was the reference he made to his parents and the effect it had on them, and asking other would-be cheats to think of their parents. I remember thinking “now he’s talking”.

It has to be said that Smith eventually took his punishment like a man and admitted the error of his ways in full. He missed a year of cricket and that will have hurt his pocket, obviously.

Now 30, he had to expect the barracking that he got when Australia played in the World Cup, and he still gets dog’s abuse at some Tests. But the grit and genius and, yes, the dignity he has displayed has helped to restore his reputation as a great cricketer.

I still feel a bit queasy at the thought of proven cheats ever being allowed to compete in a sport again, especially if they have a high profile that can influence youngsters. I am prepared to accept, however, that if someone is caught cheating then they should be able to return to the sport after a period of punishment and suspension, and a committed conversion to practising and preaching the proper ethics of sport.

I do not make that case for Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson, the cheating charlatan, who clearly did not learn gentlemanly conduct on the playing fields of Eton.