A rock in a hard place

GORDON Brown didn't soar. He didn't inspire.

He didn't do rhetoric. He was not dramatic. There were no theatrics. But he was solid, unmistakably solid, unshakably solid - so solid that until a fortnight ago he would have been compared to a rock.

And on the big talking point of the day - the date of the next election - he sat rock solidly on the fence.

There were no hints about whether he will call a snap election or whether he will play a longer game.

"It's 50/50 either way," said a North-East MP last night. "No one knows which way he will fall."

A tornado of speculation has blown up since it became known that last Thursday's Cabinet meeting discussed the timing of an election. It has left MPs and pundits alike in a spin, not knowing which way to turn: will it be October 25 or will it be next May or will he ride it out until 2010?

In such a gale, speculation is worthless as it will be blown to the four corners of the Earth before anyone has had the time to read it. But it does seem this morning as if the chances of an early election have receded just the littlest little.

Mr Brown began yesterday's speech - his first as party leader having spent the last 14 years listening to the soaring fancies of Tony Blair - as if he were setting out his stall for an early poll.

He listed the achievements of his three months as Prime Minister in which he has shown himself fit for office: rock solid in the face of terrorism, assured in the face of the worst flooding for 150 years, a safe pair of hands in the face of foot-and-mouth, firm and decisive in the face of lengthening queues outside Northern Rock.

This sounded like a man preparing the ground on which he hoped to be judged.

But he didn't go on to sketch out a vision that would inspire people to vote for him or to present a new selection of ideas that would excite people to join his cause (unless, of course, you find the vision of 2,500 new matrons doing a "deep clean" exciting).

Instead, he solidly, and with detail, nailed down some old policies in case they got blown away by the tornado of speculation. He said 300,000 children will benefit from one-to-one tuition in English and maths; 600,000 tertiary students will receive grants; 240,000 new homes a year will be built to drive down prices.

This did not sound like a man days away from issuing a manifesto.

Nor did Mr Brown's oblique criticisms of Conservative policy sound like a man preparing for electoral battle. To counter David Cameron's catchphrase of "broken Britain", he said: "We all know that in our society we do have real problems to solve, real needs to meet, but don't let anyone tell us - the British people - that this country of ours, which has over centuries given so much to the world, has ever been broken by anyone or anything."

To counter the Conservative leader's comments about two-parent families being the model for society, he said: "We all remember that biblical saying: Suffer the little children to come unto me.' No Bible I have ever read says: Bring just some of the children.''' It is true that Mr Brown is attempting to bring all political shades into his big tent. The left of his own party rejoiced that they no longer had to put up with Mr Blair's jibes about the scars on his back caused by his encounters with the unions.

Those more to the right will have noted his patriotic beginning and ending (he used the words "British" and "Britain" 71 times in the 63 minute speech), and they will have noticed this curious passage: "Preventing crime for me also means all of us as a community setting boundaries between what is acceptable and unacceptable behaviour - with clear penalties for stepping over the line. Boundaries that reflect the words I was taught when I was young - words upon which we all know strong communities are founded: discipline, respect, responsibility."

If ever there were three words upon which the Conservative Party philosophy were founded, they are "discipline, respect, responsibility".

But even given that we all live in the big tent, surely if this were a pre-election speech there would have been more Tory-bashing, more stoking of the fires of Labour activists, more rabble-rousing and a dousing of passion.

Instead, there was solidness. Even his softer, more personal anecdotes - you could tell when they were coming as he switched his smile onto full beam - ended with a solid conclusion.

"I don't recall all the sermons my father preached Sunday after Sunday," he said, beaming. "But I will never forget these words he left me with: We must be givers as well as getters'." Most sons remember their fathers being on at them about the length of their hair or to turn that bloody racket down; in the solid Brown household the son amazingly came away with a sensible soundbite.

Mr Brown's maiden speech was greeted with a solid standing ovation - there was nothing like the hot, tear-stained gush of applause that greeted Mr Blair last year.

And after it, Mr Brown undoubtedly returned to his calculations. The pros of an autumn election are that the polls now give him a 100 seat majority. The Tories are currently policy-free and going backwards while the Lib Dems are standing still. A short campaign, at a time when the economy is solid, would prevent his opponents from regaining their momentum.

But there are cons. There are public sector strikes looming. The October nights are drawing in when no one answers the canvassers' knock on the door.

If Mr Brown opts for October 25, he must announce it by next Tuesday - which would seriously undermine and overwhelm next week's Conservative Party conference, and earn him a yellow card for ungentlemanly conduct. And if Parliament counts in these post-Blair days, the announcement should wait until the House reconvenes on October 8 - and November is a no-no in terms of weather.

Plus there's the other e-word he barely mentioned yesterday: Europe. Mid October is the intergovernmental conference that will settle the new European Union treaty/constitution which will only inflame calls for a referendum - and Mr Brown won't want his election turning into a referendum on a referendum.

And there's history nibbling away at him. The shortest reign of a British Prime Minister was George Canning's 119 days in 1827. If Mr Brown opted for October 25, it would be his 120th day and he could be relegated to a Trivial Pursuit question: name the second shortest serving British PM.

So for all Mr Brown looked solid, for all he performed solidly and for all he impressed with his solidity, there must have been great queues of uncertainties forming in his mind: should he join the speculators risking all, or should he sensibly hold onto what he has invested his whole life into getting?

After all, it seems as if he is as solid as a rock