The 'louse' complained, long and hard, loudly and bitterly, that he had been traduced by the 'flea'. The 'flea', giving a good impression of Harry Flashman, leaned on the despatch box and directed a half smile/half sneer, which he must have practiced for hours in front of a mirror, towards the 'louse' who became so red in the face he was in danger of setting off the fire alarms. The point that the 'louse', himself, has a well-earned reputation for traducing just about everyone else, especially if they are in his party, was lobbed, like a well-aimed grenade into his lap by the 'flea'. Of course, the fact that the 'flea', a former public schoolboy, an Oxbridge graduate, an honourable Member of Parliament and therefore, by all British standards, a gent (do stop giggling!), had made an accusation of malpractice against the 'louse' without the tedious business of actually providing proof, was yet another squirt of high octane fuel into this ferocious fight. A good time was had by one and all especially as the miniature 'cockroach' who normally sits in the chair was absent and was thus unable to be a spoil-sport. Of course, the massed ranks of smarmies behind the 'flea' thoroughly enjoyed it but also, I suspect but cannot prove - 'well who needs boring old proof': Osborne G., passim - a great number of the plebs behind the 'louse' were quietly enjoying his discomfort, too.
For the benefit of my foreign readers:
"There is no settling the point of precedency between a louse and a flea." Samuel Johnson