John McCain looks older than his 71 years and every bit as tired as he should be, having just dragged his campaign from the grave to achieve an improbable victory over half a dozen younger rivals for the Republican nomination.

In his London hotel room, without the thick TV make-up that often masks the cancer scars on his face, he seems pale — utterly exhausted — almost frail. He must now prepare for a November general election against either Barack Obama or Hillary Clinton, bidding to make history as a black or female president.

Mr McCain’s own place in the record books, should he prevail, will be as the oldest president to begin a first term — a prospect which apparently alarms more voters than the race or gender of his prospective Democratic opponents.

He has already been forced, under media pressure, to publish medical records next month so that he can prove that the melanoma cells removed surgically from his face and neck eight years ago have not returned. Other candidates, of course, have not had their health subjected to the same scrutiny.

Does he ever feel like a victim of ageism? There is a momentary pause before he answers. “No, my challenge is to continue to do what I did in the primaries when I was out-campaigning everybody,” he says, “Americans will see my performance in debates and on the campaign trail.”

His schedule seems designed to be relentlessly — defiantly — gruelling. On the day of his meeting with The Times he held talks with Gordon Brown and David Cameron, as well as hosting a $1,000-a-plate fundraising lunch. On Monday he was in Baghdad, on Tuesday in Jordan, on Wednesday in Jerusalem. Friday is Paris, meeting Nicolas Sarkozy, so if it’s Thursday, it must be London.

No sooner has the interview begun than his wife, Cindy, calls to ask when he will be ready for dinner. “I’ll let you know when I’m on my way,” he says apologetically. They are planning a spot of tourism. He wants to go on the London Eye — “it will be my third time” — and the Churchill war rooms, but Mrs McCain is intent on taking him shopping.

This promises to give him some first hand experience of how the palsied state of the dollar makes such retail adventures for Americans visiting London prohibitively expensive. “I’m sure my wife and children will make a substantial contribution to your ailing economy,” he says grimly.

But Mr McCain can at least afford — unlike the Democrats — to take a day off. There is a long way to go before the campaign in September and October, he says. “A lot of Americans will just enjoy spring and summer — and watch with interest this Democratic contest.”

A drawn-out and divisive battle between Mrs Clinton and Mr Obama may help the Republican nominee, with polls showing that recent attacks have damaged their electability.

But he remains wary, saying that the intensity of the Democratic race also ensures that they have greater visibility, adding: “I’m not sure how this plays out — we haven’t seen anything like this before”.

Mr McCain has his own problems. His comeback to win the nomination, having been written off last summer, would have been impossible if conservatives had agreed on which of the other candidates they should support. Many remain unhappy at being landed with Mr McCain and are reluctant to open their wallets for him.

He has tried hard to overcome right-wing suspicion, promising to make permanent Bush tax cuts — which he twice voted against — while assuring that he is with them on social issues such as abortion and guns. But his support for liberal immigration and political funding reforms, as well as an alleged dalliance with the Democrats a few years back, is neither forgotten nor forgiven.

“To win the 2008 general election I have to energise our base,” he admits, “and I have to reach out to the independents and what we used to call Reagan Democrats.”

This is a tough new trick for an old dog. He has impeccable conservative credentials on national security, having been a loud, often lonely, advocate of last year’s troop surge into Iraq while also adopting a hawkish stance on Iran. But this does not endear him to those who have long grown weary of Mr Bush’s foreign policy. Mr McCain used his trip to London this week to promise that he will be different.

He talks of backing an international deal on climate change, closing Guantanamo, banning torture, and generally showing a bit more respect towards European allies. The trouble is that means his much admired “straight talk” becomes contorted by painfully polite diplo-speak. Instead of criticising Britain for pulling most of its troops out of Iraq, he praises it for remaining “our staunchest ally”. It was a decision that the British Government made, he says, and “it’s important to look forward”.

It is only with reluctance — and a theatrical sigh — that Mr McCain breaks off from such platitudes to concede that he is at odds with Britain’s refusal to sanction aerial spraying for opium poppy crops in Afghanistan — a source of revenue for the Taleban. But it’s not a big difference, he adds, “and I’m sure it can be worked out”.

While refusing to rule out bombing Iran one day if it is getting nuclear weapons, he emphasises: “There are a very significant number of options to be exercised before the military option is considered.”

What does he make of Mr Cameron — are they both conservatives from the same mould? Mr McCain says that it is hard to judge, but admires him as a “young inspiring leader”. He then adds quickly: “I also admire the Prime Minister.”

When we ask if he admires Mr Obama as a young inspiring leader, there is a commotion outside and Senator Joe Lieberman, Al Gore’s vice-presidential running-mate in 2000, bursts into the room with his wife to show off a 25th wedding anniversary present. “When he’s wanting to wrap up an interview he pushes a button and I come in — like this!” says the independently minded Mr Lieberman, who has irritated fellow Democrats by backing Mr McCain.

Or, maybe, he comes in if Mr McCain gets a tricky question, we suggest. “Yeah! A tricky question! That’s a good one!” shouts the senator. Indeed, when Mr McCain slipped up this week by claiming, incorrectly, that al-Qaeda units were being trained in Iran, it was Mr Lieberman who whispered in his ear and put him right.

But none of this is getting us very far. So we ask Mr McCain about a rumour that he was thrashed by Mrs Clinton in a vodka-drinking competition during a visit to Estonia.

“I steadfastedly deny that it ever happened. It has become mythology,” complains Mr McCain. There was, he admits, a dinner and a bottle of vodka but “there was no contest”. We suggest that testing whether they can handle hard liquor might yet be a way of determining which Democrat will be his opponent. But Mr McCain does not take the bait. He announces he is off to eat Chinese food with his wife.

Life in service

1936 Born at a US naval station in Panama. Both father and grandfather were admirals

1958 Graduates fifth from bottom in his class as the US Naval Academy

1967 Shot down over North Vietnam, suffering severe injuries and then torture as a prisoner of war for more than five years

1980 Divorces first wife, Carol, and remarries wealthy heiress, Cindy. They have four children including an adopted daughter from Bangladesh and two sons serving in US military

1986 After four years in Congress, wins the Arizona Senate seat vacated by Barry Goldwater

2000 Ran George Bush close for Republican presidential nomination, losing a bitter fight marked by smears and dirty tricks

2004 Had “private conversations” with fellow Vietnam veteran John Kerry about joining him on the Democratic ticket

2008 Becomes the Republican nominee-elect in March

Source: Times archives

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