Brown losing out in celebrity deathmatch

NOT since William Hague claimed to have drunk 14 pints of beer in a day has a politician made a more laughable claim. Gordon Brown, the Chancellor, last week told New Woman magazine that he starts his day by switching on his iPod and listening to indie rock band the Arctic Monkeys. "They really get you up in the morning," the 55-year-old explained.

There was worse to come in the interview, and his references to underwear - and even sex toys - are simply too gruesome to recount here. But his efforts make a serious political point, and perhaps one which could decide the next general election. Try as he does, Brown cannot relaunch himself. Each time he tries, he exposes himself not just to failure, but to ridicule: there is no softening the Iron Chancellor.

It may be hard to notice, but a Brown revamp is underway at present. Sartorial defects are being addressed, pink ties introduced into the wardrobe, junk television shows are written into his weekend routine and his son John is accidentally-on-purpose being propelled into the room whenever he does interviews. This is all aimed at altering the impression of him as a dull, obsessive, joyless policy wonk. But he is not easily reprogrammed. I once met a Treasury official whose job it was to teach him to smile in interviews: he grows quickly irritated by questions, and tends to treat those who challenge him as confused or malign. But even when tutored, he only remembers to smile at the wrong parts of the sentences. The despair of this official was all the deeper as Brown, she says, is a charmer in private and encourages deep loyalty and affection from his staff. But this somehow cannot be projected in public.

In the other corner lies David Cameron, a mirror image of Brown in his strengths and weaknesses. His choice of Desert Island Discs (The Smiths, The Beatles, Benny Hill) were mildly humorous but entirely plausible for a 39-year-old father who wasn't even a politician five years ago. He has no need to fake affection for rock bands and managed an interview with GQ magazine without embarrassing himself. It's worth noting that GQ put a pouting Mr Cameron on its cover, while New Woman seemed almost embarrassed about its interview with the Chancellor and did not mention him on its front. In magazine world, Cameron sells, Brown doesn't.

All this may read like bitchy trivia, but at election time it is anything but. The Brown camp realises he is badly behind on image, and he is already following with paranoid fervour the areas - social and stylistic - where Cameron is establishing a tangible lead.

The Tory leader, for example, is ahead on the women's vote, which is largely why the Chancellor has rushed to inform New Woman that British ladies "have talent, dynamism and creativity". But even that sounds like a budget out-take.

Brown just can't do it. Cameron can. Mindful of this, the Conservatives have opened a style war - realising that this can be as effective in elections as policy wars. A notable example is Cameron's curious speech last week where he declared: "It's time we admitted that there's more to life than money, and it's time we focused not just on GDP, but on GWB - General Well-Being." Intellectually, this meant nothing: governments make people neither rich nor happy, but provide public services and uphold the law. But Cameron was making a values statement, saying he wanted "to move beyond a belief in the Protestant work ethic alone to a modern vision of ethical work". It was evidently an attack on that famous son of the manse, Gordon Brown.

It is remarkable that Cameron got away with it, and makes jovial use of what is essentially sectarian language. If he had given that speech in Glasgow he would have been chased out of town - and it is, at any rate, a bizarre point. Here is a Conservative politician saying we should move on from the work ethic as if he is standing up for the hidden virtues of laziness. It also exposes him to the charge of being a member of a rich elite which moans that money just can't make them happy.

But Cameron has a knack of getting away with remarks that felled his previous leaders. This is in no small part thanks to Steve Hilton, a marketing executive driving Tory strategy at present.

Just as New Labour could not be understood without Alastair Campbell, who made the party a triumph of presentation run by a Napoleonic central command, the Cameron phenomenon cannot be fully appreciated without considering Hilton. The two worked together in the Tory Policy Unit and remained close friends. Hilton's speciality is improving the reputation of companies, and he is bringing the same skills to the Tories. His advice to Cameron is to send out messages, to identify the Tories with young aspirational Britain and draw a stylistic contrast with Brown.

So the Cameron Conservatives are engaged in a marketing operation rather than political opposition. Cameron does not seek to pile on the misery of Tony Blair - a task the Labour Party is more than capable of doing for itself. Last week, for example, the Tories were seen as being ahead of Labour on health policy: yet their proposals are identical. If the Tories are ahead, it is not to do with political genius from Cameron. It is because people are fed up with Labour and not immediately repelled by the Tories.

In style wars, glossy magazine covers and Desert Island Disc choices can be as important as a manifesto - they project the candidate as a brand. The Tories have a clear interest in turning the general election into a celebrity deathmatch and will seek to focus their campaign on simple identity issues: are you a Brown sort of person, or a Cameron sort of person? Which of these two would you rather represented your country? Which would you rather go for a pint with or have round to dinner? The style wars have started: Cameron and Brown are fighting for your invite.