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The Labour Party conference was drawing to a close. Gordon’s leadership speech already filed away under ‘premature declarations’.

The evening news had turned its attentions to the fast approaching Conservative Party conference. I felt a cup of tea coming on. A reporter mentioned someone called Cameron. Hadn’t heard of him. Reaching for the TV remote I winced as the unknown victim in the studio was peppered with tough questions.

The boiling kettle was drowning out what I knew must be the usual squirming and dodging of questions. A cynical smile crept across one corner of my mouth. Switching off the kettle I turned up the volume unable to resist the promise of blood � blue blood. And that’s when it happened.

Within seconds the wry smile had melted away. Within minutes I was sitting wide eyed. In fact� almost� mesmerized. This stranger managed the media with an easy, articulate disarming manner. And he was sharp too. Every question answered. Every answer prepared. Couldn’t fault him. I was impressed, even charmed.

As the stranger spoke, a hazy blue cloud softly descended, wrapping around me like a blanket. Soft, blue, comfortable blanket.

I fought back. Drawing on all the power to be mustered, I repeated in my mind, “I’m Labour, New Labour, New Labour”, until I could speak out the words, but only in a rasped whisper.

Help was at hand appearing in the portly form and old Tory tones of Ken Clarke. Suddenly, I was jolted back to a familiar world. Ken, a rude picture of overindulgence, the tired sound of yesterday’s man. I was safe again, freed from the enchantment of the silver tongued stranger.

Slumping back on the sofa I released a nervous laugh of relief. How close I had come to falling under the spell of the Cameron man. For a moment, I had even considered watching Conservative Party conference highlights! It couldn’t be denied, this man was good. No one was safe from his magic, not even here in the urban North.

My thoughts drifted home to Labour and the Prime Minister. I felt a little worried, even sad. But betrayal wasn’t on the cards.

No, the lady’s not for turning Tory. But it was a pleasure to meet Mr Cameron, in fact� charmed, I’m sure.

Yvonne Hutchinson

To comment on this column contact Yvonne direct at yvonne@communitychameleon.co.uk or email us at news@24dash.com