IT WAS Beauty and the Big Beast day in Blackpool. The Beast was up last, which is as it should be because otherwise David “Dave” Cameron would have seemed even more like a pretty face. I am sure that Dave will hate that, but there is a sheen about the man which cannot be denied. He has the elusive Kennedy factor and yesterday everyone in the hall could feel it.

He also has a pretty pregnant wife named Samantha and he used this for all it was worth: at the end he brought the poor woman on to the platform for lots of totally spontaneous hugging.

During one hug he gave her bump a little pat. It was shameless and, it must be said, rather effective.

Dave worked very hard at making everything look effortless. It almost worked. He strolled on to the stage, as if he just happened to be passing. He spoke deliberately and calmly. We were told that there would be no copies of his speech until afterwards because much of it would be impromptu. This made me snort, for the day before I had watched Dave practising to an empty hall.

“We CAN lead the new generation!” he had cried. “We can BE that new generation. Changing our party to change our country. It will be an incredible journey.”

In the practice version, he ended with something akin to a whoop and a sort of air punch. But yesterday, in the real version, he calmly opened his arms to the audience. I wonder how many times he had practised that inclusive hug. If mirrors could talk — and they do in fairytales — what would they say about Dave? Ken Clarke has no need for mirrors. He is a Big Beast (we knew this, but he told us again) and so has to spend all his time roaming and roaring. Sometimes he takes a break for a cigar but, in general, being a Beastie is his full-time job.

It was an “I am Ken, hear me roar” speech. He roared for no other reason than because he could. Mr Clarke is as rough as Dave is smooth and, watching him, you appreciate how rarely it is that you see a politician with a gift for being natural.

Mr Clarke just doesn’t care. He looks like a health hazard. His face is red. His paunch is substantial. He is proud to be provincial.

Ken told us that he was a great Chancellor, a great parliamentarian and a great team player. He also told us that he is great at other things, including winning. The most thrilling thing about the speech for me was that he did not say the word “change”. Plus, he didn’t tell us that we were going on a journey. What a relief for we are getting travel sickness here in Blackpool.

It was standing room only in the Winter Gardens and the temperature was rising. Towards the end, Ken demanded: “The question we have to answer is: do we really want to win?” The crowd erupted. “Yes!” they cried. The man in front of me shouted: “We do! We need you Ken!” Ken basked in the applause. “We are searching for a leader who will be seen by the public as a prime minister-in-waiting,” he said, drawling: “Well, oh boy, have you kept me waiting!” The man in front of me was clapping so hard he was vibrating. You know, I think the Tory party is having fun here.

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