Who said I had no ‘Oomph’? I’m FULL of passion
Mocking ‘tombstone Ed’. Crowing about bashing Clegg at tennis. Dave’s finally got his dander up
David Cameron is finally getting worked up. Not about the economy, or his proposed EU referendum, or even Nicola Sturgeon and her threat to his best-laid plans. No, the thing that finally gets him slamming his fists on the desk is Ed Miliband’s plinth engraved with Labour’s election pledges. ‘Why, oh why — if people think you’re a bit wonky anyway and your judgment’s a bit wobbly — why would you think: “Oh, i know what i’ll do to correct this impression — i’ll commission an 8ft tombstone.”
‘What world do these people live in? i thought it was a spoof. You want to bang the table and say: “Hello! Hello!” ’
Which he duly does. and then carries on — about how frightful such a plinth would look in the garden at 10 downing Street where Miliband has vowed to put it if he wins on Thursday. ‘it would look terrible! The garden is a very nice place. it’s open to the public once a year.’
He also accuses hi s Labour rival of presumptuous ‘curtain-measuring’.
Cameron warms to this theme. ‘The Russell Brand stuff was very disturbing — given Brand’s views on terrorism and 9/11 being a plot by the american government. But i think the plinth is his best gaffe yet!’
Sitting there yesterday, pink-faced and open-shirted, cuffs rolled up to reveal curiously hairless arms, he finally looks like he’s enjoying himself.
So much it (almost) seems a shame to mention his little election faux pas: momentarily ‘forgetting’ which football team he says he supports, muddling aston villa with West Ham.
‘That was a nightmare, a total nightmare,’ he says, going pinker. He blames the mix-up on being muddled when seeing a line in a speech he’d written about the Windies (West indies).
‘i thought West and it came out as West Ham and as soon as i said it, i thought, “Oh my God, i said West Ham! Why have i said West Ham?” ‘i just had to carry on.’ Why? didn’t it occur to him to just stop and put the record straight?
‘it was just too late. it had come out. The moment i’d said it . . . i thought that is a total and utter disaster. You are a complete idiot! What caused you to say it? and now no one will listen to anything else in this speech.’ and he was right. ‘i’m so embarrassed. But there you are, it’s happened.’
it’s been a funny campaign. Cameron had a slightly faltering start with the admission in a Tv interview that, if he won, he wouldn’t run for a third term. This led to frenzied speculation about his successor as Tory leader.
‘i was just about trying to answer a question directly. in this new fixedterm parliament system, it seemed a perfectly sensible thing to say, but obviously some people took a more interesting view.’
THEN for weeks he tried, with limited success, to show voters how much he cared, how much he wanted the job and why they should vote for him. Critics have long claimed he has a problem with emotion.
‘i think there’s a bit of that. i think i’m that classic British — we don’t wear our hearts on our sleeves.
‘i’m very practical — when i start writing a speech, say for the rally i’vwe got this afternoon’, i know what’s wrong with it. i write about the record of the government, the plans, how we’re going to build homes and i think: “That’s all very well, but that’s the detail. Where’s the ‘Oomph?” ’ He uses his hand to make a dramatic bursting gesture from his stomach. So dave, where is the ‘Oomph’? ‘Well it’s in here,’ he says, prodding his flat tummy. ‘But you know, but . . .’ he trails off. ‘i think sometimes i can miss that.’ it has dogged his campaign. ‘i felt half-way through that i wasn’t getting through as much as i wanted,’ he says. ‘about the achievements, about my passion for the job.’
and suddenly, over the past week, he seemed to have found his rhythm.
did someone at Tory Central Office give him a b*****king? His wife, Samantha, even? ‘No, there was no b*****king. There was just a sense that . . . um. i just thought, i’ve got to turn the dial up.’
BUT if a rollicking had been necessary, he insists there are many who’d have been happy to give it — including his wife. ‘i read somewhere that i’m surrounded by sycophants. The person who wrote that cannot have met the people who surround me. They give me loads of grief.’
He’s also often criticised for appearing too relaxed — for ‘chillaxing’, datenights with Samantha and maintaining as normal a family life as possible.
To counter this, Cameron runs me through his typical day in vast detail: a 5.50am start, endless meetings, walkabouts, rallies, and finally his glass of red and falling asleep in front of the 10 o’clock Tv news, which he does every night of the campaign. He says he wakes in the early hours with his mind ‘buzzing and whirring’.
‘i find all this talk about work a bit frustrating,’ he says. ‘Because i feel i’ve been working incredibly hard — all the way through this government, naturally, and from the 1st of January i’ve been upping the tempo.’
To his credit, it doesn’t show. He looks fresh as a daisy. More like a man tackling a knotty crossword than a general election with it all to play for.
Particularly as dealing with coalition government has been a struggle.
He says: ‘There are things you can find infuriating. it can be very frustrating trying to get things done. The government can be very gooey.’
His anti- stress remedies have included two-mile (‘quite slow’) runs, red wine, watching the american Tv series Modern Family with his kids and the occasional game of tennis.
One opponent has been Nick Clegg (though not during the election campaign). They have played twice and Cameron says: ‘I’ve won twonil, not that I’m boasting. He’s a very elegant player but my line calls are more resourceful.’ (Cameron’s laugh suggests he may have cheated over whether a ball was in or out.)
He is almost as sensitive about his work ethic as he is his poshness. And he is, through no fault of his own, very posh. While on a walkabout at the May Fair in the gorgeous Somerset town of Wells, he seems made of glossier, more luxurious material than the rest of us.
His hair is swept back and immaculate. His half-moon mouth spills with ‘hellos! and ‘how do you dos’ as he buys oat cookies and gives money to Nepalese earthquake charities and dodges a young man with a lot to say about fracking.
But other than the fracking man, they seem pleased to see him. And even more so to see his wife, with her very dark brows, flyaway hair and safe slacks/scarf/mules outfit.
And no, her toenails are not on display. (Last week she exposed toes that showed signs of bunions, yellowing nails, corns and flaky skin).
‘Don’t dare mention the nails!’ says Cameron.
The minute they’re off the official bus, they lock hands. When they get separated in the throng, he shouts: ‘Come on darling! Don’t lose me.’ After nearly 20 years together, he clearly still loves her in an ‘I can’t believe she’s really into me’ way.
How does she calm him after a nasty day at the office? ‘She’s very, very supportive,‘ he says. ‘She’ll say: “Dave, be proud of the fact you’ve done a great job. Just get out there and explain what you’ve done and what you want to do.” Her view is simple — she says it’s all about the economy.
‘She says: “As a mum I want a strong NHS, I want a good school for my children, but you’ve got to generate the money to pay for it. You’ve just got to make that argument.” ’
It’s Sam who made Downing Street endurable for a young family. Sam put that lovely new £20,000 kitchen in. Sam who makes it possible for three young children to have play-dates and lead semi-normal lives while living in what he once described as ‘a museum’.
‘She’s brilliant at organising. If she had organised Napoleon’s invasion of Russia, he would have got to Vladivostok at breakfast time.’ He looks all pleased and proud. She’ll certainly have her work cut out if it all goes horribly wrong on Thursday and he makes way for Miliband and that dreadful monolith.
It must be awful to sense the removal vans circling, even if metaphorically. Where would the Camerons go? Their London house is rented out. The children couldn’t commute to school from their Cotswolds constituency home.
The day before a general election, Margaret Thatcher roamed Number 10 with a book of stickers, marking items ‘to go’ or ‘to stay’.
David Cameron refuses to contemplate failure. ‘I’m taking nothing for granted. I’m fighting like mad. I’m confident of being able to get over the line.’ And if he doesn’t go well — again? Would he feel he’d let people down? ‘ Look, I’m so focused. I’m not thinking about that.’
As ever, he has what he calls his ‘lucky letter’ — a copy of outgoing Labour minister Liam Byrne’s ‘There’s no money left’ parting shot from the Treasury in 2010. He waves it about in delight. ‘It’s five years old and it’s made a comeback.’
Does he have any other election talismans — a pair of lucky pants?
‘No. But I have a lovely pair of cufflinks [designer] Paul Smith gave me with the Queen’s head on them. I’ll wear them if I can find them.’
AT OUR final stop — a rally at Hayesfield Girls’ School in Bath (cake-maker Mary Berry’s alma mater) a speech he’d been fretting over i s passionate and superpumped. He waves and shouts and thumps the air like an angry Pooh bear looking for honey.
He’s great. The crowd love him. He glows and grows in stature. He shouts about the stark choice facing the electorate. He shouts about the economy. He’s found that ‘Ooomph’.
With three days left, Cameron is in overdrive, campaigning all over the country, working like a dog.
When it all calms down, will he ever brave the Aston Villa fans again? ‘Of course! We’re in the FA Cup Final so I’m very excited.’ Will he go to Wembley incognito — in a beard? ‘No I’m used to going to matches and being abused. My son thinks it’s normal for 20,000 people to sing: “Cameron, Cameron give us a song!” ’
And talking of gaffes — if he’d been asked to write Miliband’s Moses inscription for him, what would he have put?
‘We spent too much. We borrowed too much we taxed too much. RIP.’