I was once asked if I’d like to read the novel The Angels of Lovely Lane. It’s a book about nurses in the 1950s living in a nurses home on, believe it or not, a street called Lovely Lane.

I declined to read it for a number of reasons. Yes, it has a vague connection with Warrington in as much as the author had been an actual nurse and, according to legend, had lived in the actual nurses home on Warrington’s Lovely Lane.

Some of the reviews I read also suggest it might not be of the absolute highest literary quality.

But the real reason I wouldn’t have touched The Angels of Lovely Lane with a barge pole is because its author is former MP The Right Honourable Nadine Dorries.

You know the one I mean, the Scouser who ended up representing posh people in Mid-Bedfordshire.

Yes, the same MP who took part in I’m a Celebrity Get Me Out of Her without permission, munching her way through a camel toe (sic) and ostrich anus and had the whip removed by her Tory Party bosses.

Yes, the same MP who, when Culture Secretary, wanted to sell off Channel 4 but didn’t understand that while it is publically owned, it is not publically funded and receives no government money.

Yes, the same MP who had a foul-mouthed spat with the broadcaster James O’Brien, calling him a public school posh boy £%<& wit” on Twitter. Dorries later admitted she sent two of her daughters to the same public school as  O’Brien.

And her unswerving loyalty to former PM Boris Johnson was intractable.

I could go on, but you get the drift. According to Sky News, Dorries suggested ‘sinister forces’ were behind the decision not to include her on Johnson's controversial resignation honours list and was deliberately blocked from receiving a peerage by ‘posh boys’ working for Rishi Sunak.

So what of Nadine, our very own angel of Lovely Lane? Well, after failing to be appointed to the House of Lords, she announced her intention to ‘stand down as an MP, with immediate effect’. That was on June 9. But wait, on June 14 Dorries said she wouldn’t resign after all until she was told why she was refused a peerage.

As the saying goes: Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. So when Dorries finally handed in her resignation for real at the end of August, she vented that fury at Sunak, aiming a tirade of bile and vitriol at him, some of which had an element of truth about it and some of which was frankly bizarre.

Here’s a sample of her diatribe: “Since you [Sunak] took office a year ago, the country is run by a zombie Parliament where nothing meaningful has happened. What exactly has been done or have you achieved? You hold the office of Prime Minister unelected, without a single vote, not even from your own MPs. You have no mandate from the people and the Government is adrift?”

(See, I told you some of it had an element of truth.)

But the Dorries situation reveals a deeper problem than one woman’s angst. The fact remains that for months, Dorries was a truant MP. This prompted questions from parliamentarians and constituents alike about how she could be removed from her position. The short answer is she couldn’t be removed.

There are very limited and specific mechanisms for getting rid of a sitting MP and not bothering to turn up for work for months on end simply doesn’t trigger any of them.

A recall petition is called if an MP is suspended from the House of Commons for 10 or more sitting days or if an MP is sentenced to any term of imprisonment, even if suspended. The third is if an MP is convicted of an offence under the Parliamentary Standards Act 2009, which came into being in the wake of the expenses scandal.

And under certain circumstances, an MP who becomes bankrupt can be forced to stand down.

But if an MP simply downs tools, continues to draw her £86,584 salary, writes a book about ‘The Political Assassination of Boris Johnson’ (you couldn’t make this stuff up) and has a show on Talk TV, there’s nothing anyone can do about it.

The Dorries affair does make you wonder if our archaic parliamentary rules and regulations are fit for purpose. I humbly suggest they are not.

Anyway, I’ll miss you Nadine. You were always good for a laugh.