Nick Clegg had to give the speech of his life – sorry, but it’s true – and he was nervous. He and his pregnant wife, Miriam, were attempting the traditional walk down Bournemouth’s vertiginous cliffside path to the hall. “Here comes the bump!” shouted the photographers. As they sashayed by, supposedly in deep conversation, all eyes were on Miriam, incredibly glamorous for a Lib Dem in shimmering silver.

And what about him? “Going downhill already,” said one hack. At which point a man standing on a plastic milk crate that said “Freedom of Speech – Three Minutes Only” and brandishing a sign that said “Vegetarianism” began shouting at them that he had the solution to all their world’s problems. How Nick Clegg must sometimes grit his beautiful white teeth when confronted with the madness of his own party.

Inside the hall, we were primed for the Great Speech by a film about Nick Clegg. Here was Nick at PMQs and in Afghanistan, Sheffield, Iraq, Dorset. We saw Nick with the Dalai Lama, poor people, working people, young people and lots of adorable kids.

As the Nick-fest ended and the lights came up, we could see men on stage frantically trying to dismantle the normal lectern that had a huge “Make It Happen” sign on it. As they tugged at the plug, I felt despair. This could only mean one thing: Nick was going to do his speech “walkabout” style, à la David Cameron. I know this is the custom among young Aborigines but I am baffled as to why our politicians are so keen. The result is usually painful for us, not to mention their Achilles’ heels.

But, actually, he carried it off with aplomb. Most politicians wander round the stage looking like little boys in search of their mothers but Nick seemed almost natural. He attacked Labour as a “zombie” Government: “a cross between Shaun of the Dead and I’m Sorry I Haven’t a Clue.” He said that David Cameron wanted to be the “Andrex puppy” of British politics: a cuddly symbol perhaps but fundamentally irrelevant to the product. “We know it’s blue but so are the Smurfs and Toilet Duck.”

The Toilet Duck moment led to a collective bark of laughter. The Lib Dems remain wary of this new, young, posh leader (they would so prefer Vince) but, after Toilet Duck, you could see them warming to him. He then, rather worryingly, took us from the toilet seat to the seat of government. “I can’t tell you every step on the road for us as a party,” he announced, pacing like a caged animal. “But I can tell you where we’re headed. Government.” The audience froze, for the idea of actual government seemed unreal, but then they remembered that they should clap.

Nick Clegg began to shout about how great a Lib Dem government will be, which, in the hall, didn’t seem quite so mad. Then he stood in the brace position and shouted: “The Liberal Democrats! Join us and make it happen!” The place erupted but I can’t think why. What was he on about? Everyone here was a Lib Dem. They were “us”. Why would they want to join themselves again? After the applause died down (four minutes), Paddy Ashdown called it a “tour de force”. I’d agree it was a tour all right, at least of the stage. The speech lasted 37 minutes and 42 seconds or, a better measure these days, about two miles.

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