Vince Cable - rock star! Well, the closest the Lib Dems will ever get to one. Honestly that is how it felt in Bournemouth yesterday as they filled the hall, waiting for the In-Vince-able Tour to begin. Then, finally, the lights lowered and the lectern began to glow a rancid shade of mustard.

“Now settle down and shush,” chided Lynne Featherstone, an MP and one of the tour's adoring fans known as the Vincettes. “For a soothsayer cometh.”

The crowd went “Ahhh” and Lynn lowered her voice even further: “For he spake of a debt bubble that would burst and it came to pass.” Cue laughter. “And he spake of having to nationalise Northern Rock and it came to pass. And he likened the Prime Minister to Mr Bean and it came to pass.” At the words “Mr Bean” the crowd went wild, clapping, laughing, cheering. Vince (he is ditching the last name for, like Bono, it is no longer necessary) bounded on stage to what I would call total adoration.

What a difference a year makes. The economist nerd who loved to give speeches backed by giant organograms has ditched the audio-visual aids and the nutty professor look. His suit was dun (not beige) and smart, the tie silk, the hair smooth. He was a storyteller, not a speaker, and he was word perfect. Nick Clegg watched with goggle eyes the man who many think should be leader.

Vince was almost glowing. He may yearn to be on Strictly Come Dancing but, actually, he has the X-factor. He is that rare thing: a politician who knows what he is talking about. For years he warned us of the dangers of debt and so has earned the right to say: “Those of us who warned of the dangers were initially treated as eccentric, then as scaremongers and prophets of doom. But we were right.”

As he spoke (spake?) markets crashed and banks wobbled. Last year when the Lib Dems met, Northern Rock was collapsing. This year it is Lehman Brothers. “Some people say this is the curse of the Lib Dems,” he noted drily.

There was a short, sharp attack on Gordon Brown. “Custom dictates that I should make some jokes at his expense,” he said to giggles. “But I have already done enough of that. [“No,” cried the man behind me.] I am not a sadist. I have no wish to kick a twitching corpse.” This got a big clap: the Lib Dems love a good corpse joke.

His attack on David Cameron and the Tories, whom he likened to one of those phoney American religious cults, was far more vicious. “The door to Cameron's heaven is wide open, unless you are overweight or from the North.”

He was on a roll now and the Vincettes were in raptures. The Tories, he predicted, will wreak miracles. “Mr Osborne, like Mr Cameron, a graduate of Oxford's Bullingdon Theological College, will perform the miracles of the loaves and fishes on the public finances. The sick will be healed without additional health funding. Water will be turned into cheap petrol.”

The Tories were now promising the “ultimate miracle”: fairness. “There are, no doubt, people who believe that North Korea is a democracy,” said Vince, “or that pigs can fly.” But even those people were finding the Tory fairness pledge implausible.

When the In-Vince-able Tour was over, there was an instant standing ovation. Then the star walked out, rock-star style, with little Nicky Clegg, looking rather like a groupie, scampering along behind him.

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