If Monday's vote on Europe turned David Cameron's hair grey, thenWednesday's not-so-awkward follow up at prime minister's questions will have sent him to the continent with colour in his cheeks.
This was embarrassingly easy for a prime minister who had just suffered the ignominy of the biggest ever Conservative rebellion on Europe, although he was clearly jumpy enough to have requested a bit of background prompting to set the tone.
Cameron took to his feet to the sound of an asthmatic wheeze of support from his MPs, clearly commanded to show their approval after Monday's insolence.
Their roar of support was as reedy as a Wembley Stadium crowd packed full of unbroken voiced children on cut-price tickets, leaving laughing Labour MPs urging their Tory rivals to up the volume.
Cameron nodded his head sheepishly in a gesture of thanks. How cringing.
"At least they don't have to hear it in French," he joked, unconvincingly.
At least backbench Tory Sven-a-like Peter Bone slapped his thigh in delight; all around him squirmed awkwardly.
It should have got worse. The suave Bernard Jenkin, a eurosceptic without the rabid frothing, read out an anti-EU quote with a twist – it was authored by Nick Clegg a decade ago.
The deputy prime minister did that mock head-shaking routine which he deploys whenever someone tries to embarrass him in the Commons – presumably the neck muscles are quite well developed by now – while Cameron mumbled his way through an answer which promised "opportunities to advance our national interest".
What opportunities they were, and when, he wasn't saying. Clegg looked unamused. The sceptic Jenkin raised a sceptical eyebrow. The ground had been laid.
Cometh the moment, cometh, er, Ed Miliband, though at least the cheer of greeting from his troops was rather more convincing.
A worthy question on economics, and then straight down to business.
After a week in which the prime minister was "distracted by problems on his side", could he confirm which powers, and when, he would like to bring back from Europe? Good question. Too good for an answer.
"One serious question, then straight on to the politics. How absolutely typical," came the pompous reply from Cameron, never a man to stray off seriousness at PMQs, let alone deal with politics in the entirely un-political arena of the Commons chamber.
To prove his point, he dealt with Miliband's question on Europe in the most serious of ways. The Labour leader, said the prime minister, was "a complete mug who wants no rebalancing at all".
That one came gift-wrapped for one certain red-top newspaper, a present designed to soothe the sores of the Tory backbenches.
"On this crucial question, who speaks for the government?," a clearly stung Miliband continued, attempting to remind Cameron's backbenchers that Nick Clegg was a Euro-salivating Liberal in their midst.
Even without an answer to the question, Cameron was able to continue the simple task of bullying his Labour counterpart, telling MPs that "the split that we have is between the right honourable gentleman and reality".
This wasn't exactly sending his party into rapturous delight, but at least it kept the scepticism from the door.
Miliband tried again, chiding Cameron for "pleading with his party not leading on Europe". Not bad. We should have heard that one earlier.
But by now the mug had had the rug pulled firmly from under his feet. "I might have had a problem on Monday, I think he's got a problem on Wednesday," came the prime ministerial comeback.
Not a barb to trouble the Oxford Dictionary of Quotations, but one to delight his Tory backbenchers, even the 80 or so who caused him the problems on Monday.
All bar Jenkin stayed silent today, as the prime minister's mug runneth over.
Instead of being kicked while he was down, he kicked himself out of trouble, and as a short term solutions it did the job for David Cameron. His reward? A short holiday in Europe. Greyness awaits.
Sam Macrory is political editor of The House Magazine.
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