Commentary: Bank manager Dave stages a modest drama

Poor Nick Clegg has just got into his copycat stride: now the fashion has turned again and it's back to the oldest prop of authority of all - the pulpit.

David Cameron was running very late, probably checking his savings accounts still exist, like the rest of us.

Then he finally appeared, looking like a young bank manager who has been sent outside the building to reassure scrabbling savers that it will be all right in the end.

"The reality of government is that difficulties come at you from all sides," said Mr Cameron, who has started to address us as if he was already in Downing Street and Gordon Brown a mere side-show.

He laid down a "100 per cent" guarantee of support for the Afghanistan mission and enfolded the armed forces into a fond embrace.

The message is that Mr Cameron won't take the easy get-outs on the big questions of the era.

This is what the new "age of responsibility" sounds like and I guarantee that - come the run-up to the next election - this phrase will be repeated so often it'll make you want to scream.

He "couldn't prove" he was ready to be Prime Minister, but he was going to have a damned good try.

A bit of political speed dating followed. "Child of my time, 41-year-old, father of three, deeply patriotic..."

GSOH and handy around the house too, no doubt.

Novice? He bridled visibly at Gordon Brown's attack and put his arch-foe's "experience" claim through the shredder.

Change is what hoary old, baggyeyed, ham-fisted, tired old Labour prime ministers don't want, shuddered, fresh, well-slept, nifty Dave.

"Character and judgment" were his feisty counter-thrust: straight out of the US presidential lexicon.

It is daring of an untried leader to start going on about character: he hardly has a lifetime of achievement and McCainite record of self-sacrifice in combat to rely on.

What he does have is boundless self-certainty: there is no limit to the amount of time Mr Cameron can talk about himself, though he has the art of being easy on the ear.

"I believe in low taxes," said the Tory leader, before explaining why the faithful weren't going to get them for eons.

He talked to a financially bereft call centre worker about "quids" rather than pounds, as one does with the simple folk - the single wince-making moment.

No walkabouts, no fireworks, no tax cuts: this was a modest drama of a speech. But it was given by a leader who sounds a step closer to power. They liked that.