Ruth Wishart: John Prescott had a charisma few politicians can match

John, he observed, “possessed an inherent ability to connect with people about the issues which mattered to them – a talent others spend years studying and cultivating but second nature to him”.

Gore himself proved too earnest to be charismatic, but carved out a useful niche for himself in matters environmental. He and Prescott proved a powerful double act pushing through the Kyoto Protocol on ­carbon emissions.

The talent Gore described is what’s ­usually known as charisma, and politicians lucky enough to possess it aren’t always on the side of the angels. Trump has it in spades whether you love him or loathe him. Put me firmly in the latter camp.

How a crook, an alleged sex pest, and a self-described billionaire managed to ­convince many millions of American ­voters that he was dedicated to the workers is one of life’s great mysteries. Put it down to ­charisma.

The equally odious Trump fanboy, Nigel Farage, has it too, a man who has been in more parties than Boris Johnson during lockdown. Nigel, with his ubiquitous pint and fag, also manages to persuade folks that his lucrative career as a stockbroker isn’t somehow relevant to his populist ­appeal.

I was actually in the conference hall when Prescott was pressed into service to save John Smith’s bacon.

Smith had wanted to replace the ­union block vote with one member one vote which the union barons supposed would affect their power (there were no union ­baronesses back in the day).

John P stepped up and gave a right ­barnstormer of a speech urging support. Nobody could quite remember what he said, but he said it with passion and Smith got his vote through.

The commentariat was persuaded that Smith had all the charisma of what they witheringly described as a “Scottish bank manager”. More pertinently, as Donald ­Dewar observed at Smith’s funeral, “he could start a party in an empty room and often did.”

Prescott’s next boss, Tony Blair, polished his charisma daily. Remember all those supposedly spontaneous soundbites … the hand of history on his shoulder, the ­People’s Princess etc. Tony didn’t need a talented spin doctor – though Alastair Campbell was surely that – not when he had his very own megaphone handy.

It is said that Sir Keir Starmer is a ­charisma-free zone and it’s difficult to argue with that verdict. Some people can make a telephone directory sound sexy. Keir makes it sound like a ­telephone ­directory. Though, happily for him, ­nobody has much use for them in an ­online age.

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And what of John Swinney? It’s said people are suspicious of him as he spent so many years as Nicola Sturgeon’s ­number two. It’s more likely that he finds it alien to his sober personality to try to do a Prescott with an audience.

Although there has been much chatter about Stephen Flynn’s ambitions to take over the Swinney crown, I wouldn’t ever rule out Kate Forbes now that people seem to have stopped obsessing about her religious affiliation.

Some first-rank politicians manage to ooze charisma even when they’re a man behaving badly. As Hillary Clinton ­ruefully observed of husband Bill, “he was a hard dog to keep on the porch”. Bill was what they call a very tactile politician – ie he found it difficult to keep his hands to himself. Yet his charisma count was high enough to have him shrug off some ­episodes which would likely have sunk lesser talents. Remind you of anyone?

The late Alex Salmond had loads of ­charisma too, and unlike Mr Prescott, ­simultaneously enjoyed the gift of the gab. If you needed a conference hall in Scotland stirred by passionate oratory, Eck was your man. I hae ma doots that the Alba Party will survive without their ­talismanic leader, most especially as some of its party elders are, well, elderly.

Some charismatic politicians are ­architects of their own misfortune. It might be difficult to believe these days, but in his pomp, George Galloway was a fair old tub-thumper. When he was chair of the Labour Party in Scotland – the first of many party allegiances – his gig was ­always crowded.

Ditto Tommy Sheridan, the face and voice of the poll tax protests. His star ­tumbled when he was convicted of ­perjury, his account of some activities ­being, ahem, a little economical with the actualite – copyright Alan Clark.

Charged with misleading the court, he was in the pokey for a fair wee while, ­never a good look.

Tommy was also banned from the ­people’s party for being a member of ­Militant, a group often known for failing to own up to their political shenanigans. A group famously lambasted by Neil ­Kinnock in a speech which also saw “the Welsh Windbag” at his oratorical best.

Somebody wrote post-Prescott – “he brought a little technicolour into a black and white life”. He most certainly did that, not least when he decked an egg-throwing protester during a campaign walkabout. Although both filmed and photographed, it seemed to have merely increased his popularity with the public.

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The other thing to observe is that all of the above happened in a pre-social media age. Not many extra mural antics would survive being recalled and endlessly trolled by those keyboard warriors whose venom is usually in an inverse ratio to their “wit”.

Personally, I don’t subscribe to the ­notion that all politicians are charlatans and grifters only in the trade for what they can get out of it. Having spent a long time in ­political company, I’d say the bulk of them are ­doing a difficult job for all the right ­reasons.

Spending your downtime listening to other people’s plumbing problems isn’t for everyone. And certainly not for folk like myself who could be said to be a stranger to diplomacy.

For being a politician means being ­forever polite to folk you could see far enough, and – for the best and most ­successful of them – wading through mountains of paperwork rather than ­settling down with a decent thriller.

I doubt the gender balance in ­political chambers will ever be achieved in my ­lifetime, given the fact that female ­politicians seem to attract the worst kind of personal abuse.

In politics, it’s also utterly essential to have a sense of humour and a good line in self-deprecation. The now late Prescott for a while carried around a giant glass jar containing a large crab (puir wee ­sowel)! John told everyone he met that he’d ­christened the crustacean Peter – the ­Peter in question being Mr Mandelson.

The new Labour Peter and the old ­Labour Prescott were never destined to be bosom buddies. In fact, when John P wrote a reference for Mandelson as ­Labour’s would-be communications ­director, he told him he did so on the basis that Mandelson would never meddle in policy matters. That went well!

Mandelson became an MP, headed up two Labour departments, (Trade and Northern Ireland) was subsequently a European commissioner and now sits in the Lords apparently advising the latest Labour leader. So much for not meddling!

Now it appears he is on the shortlist to be our man in Washington, though a berth in the British Embassy there may be a wee thing less enticing given the ­character of the incoming president. Will one “prince of darkness” be prepared to play footsie with his transatlantic ­doppelganger? We shall see.

Like John Prescott, Donald Trump could be said to be colourful. Just not in a good way.