To Crewe, then, for the biggest day yet in the great by-election battle. David Cameron is coming. Nick Clegg is also coming. And Labour? Well, er, someone said something about Hilary Benn. Yes, you know, Tony Benn's son. Yes, him!

We arrive on the 7.46 from Euston. I am alarmed to see Stephen Timms, a minister for something that no one can remember, wandering the Crewe rail platform. He looks utterly lost. No one else recognises him. I do because in the Commons he is one of my favourites as he reminds me a bit of Lurch (I mean that affectionately) from The Addams Family.

We head for Nantwich, the posh bit of the constituency, where Hilary is scheduled to do a walkabout. This is the spot where the Battle of Nantwich was fought in 1644. The weapon of choice for the Battle of Nantwich 2008 is balloons.

The market square is teeming with Tories and Liberal Democrats offering balloons to children. There are far fewer red balloons; one is marooned in a tree.

But where was Hilary? I spot a man near the Labour helium canister who looks familiar: he's round, bearded, white-haired. Is it Frank Dobson? The man who in 2000 lost London for Labour smiles a gap-toothed grin in greeting.

“Where's Hilary?” I ask.

“He's not coming. I'm shorter, rounder, older . . . ”

And less posh, I say. He laughs, for Dobbo is nothing if not affable.

Apparently, after the 7.46, a power surged halted the trains. This leaves Dobbo temporarily in charge. He seems to be conducting a stand-around more than a walkabout. I can see how Labour could lose its 7,000 majority - easily.

Finally Mr Timms arrives, with the candidate, Tamsin Dunwoody, scampering along in his shadow. She seems thin and rather vulnerable.

“I'm sorry about your mum,” everyone says to Tamsin. A palpable feeling of sadness surrounds her. Ms Dunwoody's mother, the much-loved MP Gwyneth, was buried a week ago. Tamsin keeps saying that she is a fighter like her mum.

At a stall called Konfectiony, Tamsin reminisces with the owner about how her mum used to stop here to buy Tamsin her favourite chocs - violet cremes. This time, though, Tamsin buys some caramels. She gives the bag to Mr Timms to carry.

Mr Clegg has been held up by the trains too. He's had to come to Crewe via Derby and then onward by car. He is, of course, visiting a train-repair factory. We all have to put on rubber clown-type overshoes (mine are yellow, very Lib Dem) with steel-caps. We walk, feet flapping, to the train-repair sheds. We pass one with a huge sign that says “Power”. It's as close as the Lib Dems will ever get to that.

Nick finally arrives with his party's candidate, Elizabeth Shenton. Both are wearing special black steel-capped shoes so that they don't have to look like clowns. (Lib Dems care about these things). She is wearing tangerine and is rather quiet.

“There is all to play for here!” cries Nick as we pass the “bogies” shed (it's something to do with train wheels). Elizabeth claims to be one of the 1.1million people who are still losers from the 10p tax rate fiasco. Her other claim to fame is her cats. “Elizabeth!” cries a local reporter. “Ten or nine?” She answers, without batting a whisker, “Ten!” That's cats, by the way, not votes.

Dave has given up on the trains completely and has headed up by car. “I've just spent three hours on the M6,” the Conservative leader says when he finally arrives in the middle of a railyard at 4pm. “What's wrong with the West Coast mainline?”

He never does get an answer, of course, but is in fiery walkabout form. His candidate Edward Timpson, of shoe repair fame, hardly speaks but looks on adoringly as Dave demands of staff: “So if you were Transport Secretary for the day, what would you do?”

This is the third time Dave has been to Crewe and he's coming up again on Monday. The place does seem to be swamped with Tory MPs. It's impossible to escape them. I suspect that the good people of Crewe - even the Tories, indeed, especially the Tories - are cowering inside when they see a blue rosette through the door peephole.

Labour has tried to make this into a class war, fancy dress and all. “Everyone is so well dressed in Crewe,” Dave deadpans. “I'm the only one in the suit. Everyone else is in top hat and tails!” Yesterday, though, it looked like the class war had been abandoned.

The two men headed outside, boyishly excited to be putting on orange jackets over their dark suits for their great train adventure. Yes, Dave and Ed are going to pretend to drive a train (a Class 66 diesel locomotive, to be exact). They climb the ladder: Dave first, of course.

“How does it feel to be at the controls?” cry the photographers.

“Good!” shouts Dave, as Ed looks on, eyes like saucers.

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