Barack Obama's other job is a successful TV presenter manqué

Not so long ago Bill was dismissing Barack's positioning on Iraq as "a fairytale" - one with a happier ending for Mr Obama than the Clintons, it turned out.

Never mind: the ex-president looked fine, if you discount the redness around the nose, rheumy eyes and a liking for the microphone that suggests that he has never really said goodbye to the top job. "Are you ready for a new president?" Bill inquired. For a long moment, it looked like he might be laying claim to a third term.

"You need four things to be president," the president emeritus rapped, with a hint of the I-should-knows. Mr Obama adopted an expression of benign neutrality, doubtless working out what job he will have to give Hillary as Bill's appearance fee.

On rolled Mr Clinton. "I will bring him on," he said, and then talked some more. When the two men embraced, their heads did not quite coordinate. Earlier, Mr Obama had tried out a new and expensive sideline even Mr Clinton never thought of: reality TV.

Simultaneously aired on seven channels at a cost of $6million, this was the intended deal-sealer: the most lavish infomercial of all time. So far.

For all this money, what we got was a lot of "ordinary people" and the candidate acting as sympathetic narrator of the lives of others.

Like all successful modern politicians, Mr Obama is really a TV presenter manqué: "Larry was preparing for a quiet retirement until he found his bills rising...": cue footage of tired pensioner setting out for his job in Wal-Mart while his missus frets over her prescription drug charges.

Mr McCain, relegated to the single main channel that turned down this propaganda exercise (CNN), was left admitting that he was the "underdog" and complaining about being out-spent - a novel experience for a Republican.

He highlighted his rival's light touch with inconvenient facts: the school highlighted as improving after "a reform program" turned out to have had its resurrection financed by Bill Gates, a point which somehow did not get included. Mr McCain frequently talks sense and asks awkward questions of super-smooth Mr Obama. But now, he looks like a commentator on this election, rather than a participant.

No matter how touching the story, Mr Obama was there in yet another pristine white shirt. Sarah Palin stumbled over her too-lavish wardrobe: but has anyone counted the cost of Mr Obama's laundry bill? There can't be a crumpled, office-bound man out there who wasn't wondering how he does it nor a woman whose mind does not wander to who wields the spray starch.

He has what any modern politician would kill for: a touching life story. Pictures of the father who abandoned him floated across the screen, followed by stories of his mother making him rise at 4.30am to do extra schoolwork, "because this is no picnic, buster". His own photogenic girls hugged and tickled him while Michelle invoked his skills reading "all of the Harry Potter books" to them. Where did he get the time? Most working parents give up after one.

Vagaries on foreign policy gaped. Iran is to be dealt with by "tough direct negotiation", which is unlikely to have them quaking in Tehran. He would "curb Russian aggression": three words to deal with a foreign and security headache with vast ramifications. Yikes.

He glides over bumps in the road. "I am not a perfect man and I will not be a perfect president," he concluded, in case we might have gained the impression of a second coming. Pretty damn near to being the perfect candidate though.