It takes a lot, even now, to shake the House of Lords. In the restaurants and bars you hear the low murmur of aged servitors inquiring: "Some more of the House claret, my lord?" On the benches there is less snoozing than there used to be, and I haven't seen an ear trumpet in years, but still a sense that nothing in the world should cause any gentleman - or lady - to relax the rules of courtesy and decorum. The Commons might be the elected House, but the general impression you might have is that the franchise is open only to football hooligans.

So the news that four of their number were accused of taking money to influence policy had a terrible effect. Of course the four are all life peers, and Labour at that - they are said to have tried to acquire the loot in a new-fangled fashion, unlike the old hereditary peers who obtained it the traditional way, by oppression of the peasantry and servile loyalty to the monarch.

Lady Royall, the Labour leader of the House, did not, it must be said, appear from her downbeat tone to share the general distress and outrage. The matter had been referred to a committee. Why, she said, the committee had already met. The impression was that when they want to, these peers can move as fast as a gerbil on a hot skillet!

Then the Tory leader, Lord Strathclyde, stood up. He was, I think, genuinely appalled, and not merely coated in a froth of ersatz political outrage. It was "shocking and depressing moment." In the Cuisinart of his fury, metaphors were mixed and shredded. "This House is mired in a grim torrent of criticism about a culture of sleaze," he said.

If the allegations were true, the peers concerned should accept any sanction the House dished out. There were, he said, no grey areas in the rules. One didn't, and I paraphrase, take any money for anything. The inquiry should be rigorous and swift. What's more, he said, the miscreants - if they knew they were guilty - shouldn't wait for its report. They should come to the House and accept responsibility in a personal statement - "and they would be well advised to do so", he finished grimly.

Lord Snape, one of the four accused, had been sitting on the back row of the Labour benches, twitching gently. He apologised, "if I have done so", for bringing the House into disrepute. He should be allowed to refute the allegations in the House and elsewhere. A low, rumbling "hear, hear" indicated that at least some of his colleagues were on his side.

Where the horrible press are concerned, all parliamentarians are innocent until proven guilty, and sometimes afterwards too.

Lord Taylor of Blackburn, another of the four, went for the "I'm just a dotty old man" defence. "If I have done anything, I most humbly apologise ... but I feel within my own conscience that I have followed the rules over the 31 years I have been a member."

And a few minutes later, the usual gentle murmuring silence, like a meadow on a summer's evening, descended on the place once again.g