David Davis might be forgiven for lukewarm enthusiasm for Mr. David Cameron. After all he had to go through the humiliation of turkeying his crucial speech to the Party Conference of 2005, only to watch his position as front runner in the race to be the next leader of the Tory Party slip away on the flood tide of enthusiasm for David Cameron’s assured offering. Yet, for all that he has gone into bat for Cameron in today’s Sunday Telegraph.

I watched the various offerings at that conference with a detached professional interest. Public speaking can be, even if you are much used to it, a nerve-wracking affair. Any member of the Bar will tell you that they feel appallingly nervous before making an important Jury Speech. Some go off to the Robing Room loos to puke their guts out before delivering a speech of character and power.

I once saw the late Victor Durand QC, an acknowledged master of the Jury Speech and The Plea in Mitigation, address a tiresome windbag of a Judge of Welsh ancestry at Lincoln Crown Court on the sentence appropriate for a bit of causing death by reckless driving. Out in the Fens a farmer had unwisely driven his tractor unlit along a Fen Drove at some speed with a plough attached to the rear. Said plough had duly removed a young motorcyclist’s head at the neck with all the efficiency of a Ghurkha’s kukri and a young lad had been sent to the great motorcycle park in the sky.

It was late in the afternoon and I was keen to get home ASAP. I had been at Grimsby Crown Court in the morning and as this was a Friday had nipped off to the Docks to get a whole load of Dover Sole for my dinner party that night and was keen to get them home to impress the girlfriend rotten with my Sole Meunière .

Yet as I waited for my turn to come in the old Nisi Prius Court at Lincoln Castle, I sat spellbound as this master of the art engaged in the art of the apparent encomium for the Learned Judge, who was, if truth be told, an over-promoted fool of the worst sort, whilst, to all present, plainy trashing him with faint praise. I can see it now. The sentence when it came was truly a result for the poor farmer who was sent off with almost an apology to reap and bind for ever and a day. Yet before engaging in courteous battle of wits with the Welsh Windbag, I had seen the famous Silk pacing the small Robing Room at Lincoln Castle wracked with nerves before going into bat against an acknowledged second-rater of a judge.

Poor old David Davis obviously lacked the public speaking skills to garner the leadership of the party. Mr. David Cameron, swept past him as Mr. Toad might have edged the Gypsy’s caravan aside. It was an amazing moment as David Davis meteor fell to earth in a shower of sparks and died.

Notwithstanding this, his speech in praise of Cameron does him considerable credit. Other losers, such as Sulker Heath, have taken defeat so badly they cannot bring themselves even to contemplate their nemesis publicly. I watched an interview with Regicide Heseltine not long ago in which he plainly found it difficult even to mention Margaret Thatcher by name, let alone to acknowledge her existence (plainly his failure to win the ultimate prize of leadership of the party and Prime Ministership as the reward for his rank treachery still rankled, as well it might given his disgraceful and dishonourable conduct in that regard), so David Davis’ timeous support for Cameron does him great credit.

A report on his staunch and creditable support for Cameron is here and he must be congratulated for it. It gives the lie to the suggestion that he has been using Cameron’s absence in Rwanda and other temporary problems to trash his leader.

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