In their Wisdom by C.P. Snow

The Chamber was abnormally populated that evening, so were the library, the guest room, the bar, and surreptitious lurking places. Peers' wives sat on one side of what was also called the Bar, and other guests opposite to them. At the further end of the Chamber, elderly dignitaries from the Commons sat on the steps of the throne, bottom by bottom with the sons of peers, one or two in their teens. Spectators looked down from the galleries.

As in a theatre with a certain hit, sheer numbers produced their own excitement. There was more laughter than the House was used to, even the vestigial trace of hysteria, which an actor would have recognised, underneath the phlegm. A skilful speaker could have played on it. No one did so. The courtesies flowed out. Speeches were being read from sheaves of what might have been notes, but were delivered intact to the Hansard reporters. Reading speeches was forbidden by a rule of order which was always being broken. There was another rule of order against acerbity of speech, and that was usually obeyed. It was being obeyed that evening. It was 28 October, the second day of the debate on the intention to enter the European Community. The vote would be taken later in the night.