"What? No horns?", asked Alistair Campbell - of himself.
Currently embedded with Lions justifying their invasion of New Zealand, The Man Who Sold the War fronted up before Kim Hill and a theatre full of barbed Wellingtonians last week - and he emerged unscathed. Was it the power of faith? Or the gentle, guiding hand of the Prince of Darkness?
The evening was organised by Kensington Swan (cheers for the invite, Hayden!), who packed a few hundred valued clients and a handful of freeloaders into Te Papa to have a go at Campbell, who took the opportunity to raise money for leukemia research.
I have to hand it to these lawyers - they sure have their fingers in a lot of pies. Scores of Parliamenoids were there; a friend from the PM's office signalled me with a complex series of hand gestures that I interpreted as: "In case of emergency, exits are located to the side and rear". Turns out, she was trying to warn me that I was sitting on National's figurative front-bench, moments before a cluster of present and future National MPs plonked themselves down...
(Campbell also had dinner with Helen while he was in town - perhaps Labour will pick up their game now?)
Earlier in the evening, I was discussing Campbell's career choice with someone from the Nats. They thought that the Lions job would have been a huge let-down after so long in Downing Street, hell - any job would be a let-down after that. I thought that it would be pretty cool; after working in a job carrying so much moral weight, copping so much shit, being hated by so much of the world (not to mention the actual work), it must be great to hang out with a rugby team and travel the world. Surely, it must be great to wake up in the morning *not* to have the weight of the world on his shoulders - that, in itself, is practically retirement!
I must be too far from real power, because it wasn't until later that I really understood the point I missed - it wasn't how good it would be to not have the responsibility, but how difficult it must be to give up that sort of power.
Devil or not, Campbell was a different sort of fellow. He worked the crowd like a world-class pro, as expected; he took the full brunt of Kim Hill - and made it look fun.
Most people who can work a stage like that have to love the crowd. With someone like Winston Peters, for example, you can usually see him start off trying to pull his standard bag-of-tricks, but once he succeeds in getting the crowd going, he becomes a man possessed. He would feed off its energy and channel it back into the crowd. But at the same time, if the crowd or the interview turns against him, he'd get really defensive - hurt, even.
What really amazed me about Campbell was the complete opposite: he was immune to - but perfectly aware of - what other people thought. Even talking about the suicide of Dr David Kelly - when the question obviously implied that he bears some guilt in the matter - Campbell didn't flinch.
He said that Blair knew that going into Iraq was going to be an unpopular decision, but it was simply "the right thing to do". In turn, Campbell truly believes that he did the right thing in advocating the invasion of Iraq, and from that moral certitude came his aura of invulnerability.
The sense of privilege that came from his work, he said, makes the the shit thrown at him "just slip off".
He talked down the election victories, but said that his best moment on the job was feeling the "buzz" as he was flying back from the Good Friday Agreements, feeling that he had been part of something that people didn't think was possible. That kind of achievement - politicians coming together and making things happen through their collective will and effort - was what did it for him.
And he says that the nobility of politics is being destroyed by the relentless negativity on the part of the media, who, for example, would rather credit Bob Geldof with solving Africa's debt problem than to give praise or acknowledgement to any of the politicians involved. (Who is Bob Geldof, anyway? Is he, like, a musician or something? That's whack.)
He says that the lowered standards of journalism has led to "more noise, less understanding" around the important issues, and that at the end of the day, it's polluting the political debate and keeping good people away from politics.
It's fascinating to see someone who has seen power up-close express such a high opinion of it. But it wasn't his faith in Blair that was inspiring, but his faith in politics as a whole, in what he did, and in himself.
"It's about knowing when it matters and when it doesn't... don't buy into the [media] frenzy."
He rolls with the punches, but inside, there is a real core of hard stuff that won't be moved so easily, and it's that core that stays the course when the going gets tough. And it's also what allows him to leave.
As Campbell received his well-deserved applause, there almost a coy manner about him - as if he was content to let the love slid off him as readily as the hate. And so he took a bow, and departed.
[In other news, Kristen from TV1's Breakfast got me on the show with Chris Trotter last week to talk about Brash's potential coalition with Winston Peters and to give the word on whatz goin down with da kidz. Did better on the former than the latter. I'm not as much an expert on the hip and happenin' with the yoof as I ironically pretend to be. That's whack.
However, I have been reliably informed (after I asked) that I am "sexier than Chris Trotter".
Boo-yeah!]