Even for a president on his last lame legs, Air Force One remains the biggest and shiniest symbol of virility in global politics.

Its blue, white and chrome fuselage bears just four words: “United States of America”. When the waving president bursts out and bounds down the stairway, even the most robust egos among the leaders who wait below to greet him must feel a little diminished.

This is the America that much of the rest of planet admires and aspires to be — oversized, technologically advanced and, on Monday’s sunny dawn at Andrews Airforce Base, capable of soaring optimism.

The dowdy charter planes that transport Barack Obama along the campaign trail should serve as a reminder that star power is not — yet — the same as real power. For the next few months, President Bush is still in charge, flying around the world in a customised 747 capable of withstanding the electromagnetic pulse of a nuclear blast. The aircraft is as important for the mystique of the modern presidency as crowns are for monarchs.

Journalists, of course, enter by the back door — the tradesman’s entrance. You climb up into the rear of the vast, reconfigured 4,000 square feet of space — the “flying White House” that serves as the world’s most exclusive and best equipped mobile office.

There are glimpses of aides sitting hunched over computer screens at desks. One is fast asleep with his mouth gaping, catching flies. Others are gathered around tables in side rooms doing secret stuff. Out of sight are the President’s private quarters, including bedrooms and a private office. Somewhere, there is said to be a full operating theatre.

The Times interviewed Mr Bush in the conference room, where he sits at the top of table surrounded by telephones, including one which was salmon pink, tantalizingly close in colour to the mythological red hot line.

The President has his own china mug marked “Potus” and, just in case there is any doubt about the acronym (President of the United States), he also wears an Air Force One flying jacket embroidered with the the words “George W Bush” over his left breast. On one side of his desk is a pamphlet embossed with the words: “Presidential Library, DVD Selection.” The press area is similar to what might be expected from an upgrade but with stewards who seem to care little whether passengers fasten their belts or fully raise their seatbacks on take off. Everything gleams — even the chrome bowl in the lavatory shines as bright as a 1950s Thunderbird.

Stories are legion of excited members of the media loading themselves up with any branded item not fastened down or essential for the aircraft to stay in the air. Disappointingly, there is little available for filching on this trip, except for a few paper napkins.

Breakfast is bacon, eggs and apple pancakes. There is a snack of Tortilla chips and salsa. Lunch is “Country Fried Steak” — a breaded slab of meat covered in creamy white sauce — accompanied by “Texas Toast” and salad with ranch dressing. The waiters confirm that the Tex-Mex food is designed to suit the President’s own tastes.

So too, perhaps, are the films from that presidential DVD library some of which are being shown on flatscreen TVs around the aircraft. While Mr Bush spoke with The Times about how Europe had misunderstood him for much of the past seven years, 10,000 BC was reaching its climax. This movie tells the story of a mammoth hunter on a journey through uncharted territory to secure the future of his tribe against evil horse-riding warlords. Along the way, the hero battles sabre-toothed tigers and terror birds. But, as blood-stained prehistoric warriors go, he is quite a sensitive soul.

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