THE Prime Minister called on a motoring metaphor in his conference speech this week. Whereas Mrs Thatcher wasn't for turning, Tony Blair won't go backwards. Speaking in those short, verb-purged sentences he favours, Mr Blair said: "The true choice. Forward or back. I can only go one way. I have no reverse gear."

This came with the usual queasy stuff, the almost tears over dead soldiers alongside an observation on his own style as a leader: "Leadership comes by instinct." How admirable it was not to squirm when he spoke those words; how marvellous that he just held back the tears while being so moved by the power of his own oratory.

Anyway, let's get in the car, the Great British Mini (as made for us by Germans), with Mr Blair. This model has been built to his specifications and Mr Blair is going for a test drive with the man from the garage.

"Right, Prime Minister, off you go."

"So long as it's a straight line, you won't catch me doing any of those U-turns. The laddie's not for turning you know."

"Glad to hear it, sir."

"Right then, off we go. Forward, ever forward to a future fair for all. Does the CD player work? Look, I've brought one along. Slip it in." The music fills the small car. "Things can only get better... Things can only... things can only..."

"Something seems to have got stuck," says Tony, sounding agitated.

The little car zips off with an exhaust rasp, heading for a roundabout. The man from the garage clutches his knees. "It's normal, Mr Blair, to go round these things and..." The car bumps over the roundabout, through the flower bed in the middle and emerges the other side, with a couple of squashed red roses attached to the bonnet.

"Soon get rid of those," says Mr Blair, smiling broadly while swerving from left to right, although mostly to the right. The red petals fly into the air, leaving a thorny stem stuck under the wiper blades.

The man from the garage, who has gone a strange colour, takes a couple of deep breathes to calm himself down. "Right, Mr Blair, I need to tell you about this car. It was built precisely to your specifications. So there is no reverse gear, as you said you could only go the one way."

"That's right, the true choice. Forward, ever forward."

"There's only one problem, Mr Blair. What happens when you get to a wall. Without a reverse gear you can't go anywhere, you're stuck."

"Never mind that. Boring old technicalities. Mere details. No one cares. Forward, ever forward."

"Mr Blair, there's a wall. It's the hospital. Slow down for heaven's sake."

"Forward, ever forward," shouts Tony, bouncing in his seat. The little car hurtles towards the hospital wall, ignoring the road sign which says: "National Health Service - handle with care", and goes crashing through, scattering bricks in all directions, one of which was personally signed by Aneurin Bevan.

"Mr Blair, you're going to spin out of control." "Nonsense. I'm at expert at spins. Just watch me. I can spin this way, I can spin that way. I can spin 360 degrees."

"Let me out," cries the man from the garage. Tony spins full circle and screeches to a halt. He pushes out his passenger, a certain Mr Arnold Voter, and shoots off down the bumpy road towards his next target.

Mr Voter, once he has recovered his composure, says: "Well, you have to admire his energy. But he just doesn't seem to have anyone else in the car with him any more."

Updated: 09:18 Thursday, October 02, 2003