I FIND IT HARD to believe that many floaters were
impressed by the Conservatives' first TV broad- cast in the campaign proper. Six turned out to be too many Ministers to be squeezed comfort- ably into so brief a session. Surprisingly, Lord Hailsham was the chief sufferer; deprived of his natural ebullience, he was painfully subdued. Poor old Rab looked more like a candidate for Pagliacci thaw ever, and lain Macleod, whose brisk self-confidence would have come over very well in a debate with a political opponent, managed at times, owing to the lack of contrast, to sound—and look—smug. The Chancellor's mild persona came across amiably; I liked his praise for his predecessor, Peter Thorneycroft, though it brought a frosty reaction from the Prime Minister. Mr. Macmillan himself has developed so contrived an air on television—he does not so much over-act as act too hard—that it is becoming uncomfortable to watch him. The most successful part of the broadcast, to my surprise, was the post- script; with the Foreign Secretary back from New York and talking with all the authority of a man who has actually been doing a job while his col- leagues have been fooling around writing manifestoes. But the good effect was promptly spoiled by a horrible winding-up shot which showed Prime Minister and Foreign Secretary gaping frozenly into the wrong camera; and, still worse, this was followed by what looked as if it were going to be a Summer County Margarine ad., but turned into a commercial for the Con- servatives—hardly distinguishable in approach from one which followed extolling another famous brand of soft soap.
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