TONY BLAIR’S late mother, Hazel, was born in Ballyshannon, Co Donegal. She was, by all accounts, a formidable woman and seems to have bequeathed her son one extraordinarily useful asset — the luck of the Irish.

It is conventional wisdom to contend that the Prime Minister has been a very fortunate politician, though the dice are now rolling against him. This is a mistaken assessment. The truth is, he has been a flabbergastingly lucky individual, and he still is.

The early evidence is obvious. The leadership of the Labour Party became available to Mr Blair at the very point in his career when he had become best placed to secure it (neither Gordon Brown nor John Smith were so fortunate). He found himself facing a Conservative Party that was determined to shoot itself before allowing others to train their guns on it. He inherited an economy which, if not in quite as “golden” a condition as Tory folklore makes out, was in a more benign state than any that another incoming Labour prime minister has had to deal with. The one massive misjudgment that he could (and wanted to) make — joining the euro for political reasons, despite horrendous economic risks — was denied to him by others.

And so it has continued. He fights an unpopular (although, in my view, noble) war in Iraq, alongside an American President somewhat lower in the popular estimation than Michael Jackson, to counter the threat of weapons of mass destruction that turn out not to exist. And there is then an exceptionally awkward “peace”.

Yet the backdrop to this general election is that of the formation of a democratic government in Iraq and a period of comparative calm on the streets of Baghdad. The emblem of the Labour Party under Mr Blair has been the red rose first adopted by Neil Kinnock. It should be a rabbit’s foot or a sprig of heather.

Just how fortunate the Prime Minister remains is illustrated by the present election campaign, its expected outcome and possible events elsewhere after it is over.

The Labour re-election drive has been a pretty awful affair. This has not mattered as much as it might have. Mr Blair’s decision — urged upon him by the kamikaze branch of his Downing Street circle — to recruit Alan Milburn last September to mastermind election strategy and to cast his Chancellor into internal exile was the biggest domestic political mistake he had made as Prime Minister. To witness Mr Milburn’s attempts to master the complicated subtleties of modern campaign politics from scratch has been a highly entertaining exercise: much like watching a flamingo aspire to rollerskate. It has imperilled what should have been a comparatively comfortable march to another term.

So what does the Prime Minister do? He reverses shamelessly. The Labour Party election broadcast tonight will feature Mr Blair and Mr Brown cooing about their political “marriage” (the union between Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor comes to mind). Mr Blair has decided that he has to cleave to his Chancellor hip and thigh, and Mr Brown has little choice but to grin (sort of) and bear it. The Prime Minister is siphoning off his rival’s high-octane standing with the public like a teenage joyrider. It’s outrageous . . . but he’ll get away with it.

The weekend polls suggest a Labour lead, depending on whose methods you prefer, of two, four or seven percentage points. All of them would translate into a majority of 70, 90 or more than 130 seats in the House of Commons. This is a stunning parliamentary bonanza. In 1992 John Major defeated Mr Kinnock by a margin of seven and a half points and acquired a feeble majority of 21. Mr Blair could stack up fewer overall votes than Michael Howard and still emerge in a healthier state than his hapless predecessor.

This is because not only do the Tories not have enough supporters, they also live in the wrong places. The Conservative Party’s backing is spread far too thinly. In fact, matters could hardly be more convenient for the Prime Minister if Alastair Campbell and Philip Gould (his pollster) had the power to wander the country forcibly moving people into different homes on the basis of their political allegiances. How much luckier can you be with an electorate?

Mr Blair’s final laugh may come not on May 5, but on May 22 and May 29. The one bit of bad luck he can legitimately claim concerns the leaders of France and Germany. Jacques Chirac and Gerhard Schröder have been the Prime Minister’s ball and chain within the European Union. On May 22, however, the electors of North Rhine-Westphalia, Germany’s most populous and most significant region, choose a new administration. If, as seems likely, Herr Schröder’s SDP loses what has been its bastion for decades, then the moment at which Angela Merkel becomes Chancellor in Berlin moves notably closer. On May 29 the French vote on the EU constitution. If they say “non”, then the credibility of M Chirac will be ripped to shreds, this unloved document will be stone dead and the UK may not hold its referendum. A French “non” is worth 50 times more than any (unlikely) British “yes” to Mr Blair.

The Prime Minister’s friends might insist that you make your own luck in life. They would, of course, be correct and the kind fates are not the only reason why Mr Blair is where he is today. He does, nevertheless, continue to be amazingly fortunate. Perhaps the underlying secret of his success is this: with enemies like his (the fruitcake far-Left of Labour; the post-Thatcher Tory party), who needs friends?

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