A gasp and a thump. The Chancellor had a fainter on his hands: HENRY DEEDES watches Nadhim Zahawi’s pitch to become Prime Minister

As campaign endorsements go, it can only be a resounding thumbs down. No sooner had Nadhim Zahawi begun his pitch to become prime minister yesterday, than a loud commotion erupted in one corner of the room.

A shuffling of feet, a gasp and then a loud thump. Cue a panicked cry of ‘Oh God!’ Ladies and gentleman, we had a fainter.

The Chancellor was giving his big speech at the relaunch of Conservative Way Forward, one of those campaign groups with distinctly Thatcherite leanings.

These events always have a science club feel. Lots of young men with floppy hair and pimply skin darting around discussing geeky policy initiatives when they really should be doing something more useful with their lives. Like enjoying themselves.

For some reason, a bright spark had decided it was a good idea to hold the event in the subterranean Churchill War Rooms on a sweltering day in July. Before we’d even kicked off, the premises already bore the acrid pong of a rugby club changing room. One dreads to think what this hellish sweatbox must have been like during the war.

Mr Zahawi had just begun announcing his plans for a swathe of vote-catching tax cuts when the poor girl buckled.

Chancellor Nadhim Zahawi, one of the candidates for Conservative Party leadership, pictured during the Conservative Way Forward Relaunch at the Churchill War Rooms on Monday

As campaign endorsements go, it can only be a resounding thumbs down. No sooner had Nadhim Zahawi begun his pitch to become prime minister yesterday, than a loud commotion erupted in one corner of the room

Turned out she was a young intern at The Sun. A cry went up that the patient needed something to drink. Quick-as-a-flash that self-professed man of action, Tobias Ellwood (Con, Bournemouth E) hurtled over with a glass of water. Dear God man, couldn’t you have rustled up something stronger?

Meanwhile, Zahawi simply carried on speaking, that big, bald head by now glistening in the television lights like a pickled egg. Should he have stopped? Probably. But then running for PM requires a certain steely-eyed ruthlessness. Eventually, we learned our faller required an ambulance.

Crikey – had Zahawi really been that bad? No, is the short answer. It’s just that as one of the Commons’ more skilful performers, we expected more from him. He was just, well, a bit dull. He also used the term ‘my friends’ with a little too much alacrity. (‘We have a global battle with inflation, my friends.’) Slightly too familiar.

Rather better was Mr Zahawi’s fellow speaker, the attorney general Suella Braverman, who surprised many when she declared she would be running for leader last week. Particularly Boris Johnson, who by then hadn’t even resigned. There were no flashy soundbites, no spending cut pledges. What the country didn’t need was ‘reheated Thatcherism’ – it needed a plan. ‘Don’t vote for me because I’m a woman. Don’t vote for me because I’m brown. Vote for me because I love this country and because I will do anything for it,’ she said. It was engaging rhubarb. She’s got no chance of course.

Crikey – had Zahawi really been that bad? No, is the short answer. It’s just that as one of the Commons’ more skilful performers, we expected more from him

For some reason, a bright spark had decided it was a good idea to hold the event in the subterranean Churchill War Rooms on a sweltering day in July

Sajid Javid is also standing to be PM. Again. His big launch a few hours later was slightly more sophisticated.

He had chosen the Cinnamon Club, a fancy-drawers Indian restaurant with distinctly non-Balti house prices. It was still baking hot but there were at least some ice-cold drinks on offer. As someone who made squillions in the City, The Saj can always be relied upon to splash the wonga.

During his last leadership launch, he generously picked up the hefty bar tab we hacks racked up. Mr Javid arrived with his shirt sleeves rolled up, presumably a sign he meant business. Sensibly, he’d packed a handkerchief to keep his brow neatly mopped. It wasn’t long before the thing was sopping wet.

Saj got straight down to the nitty gritty. He hadn’t come to polish his backstory and bang on again about how his father was a bus driver. Phew, thank God for that. He was there to declare the Conservatives were heading for electoral wipe out.

He, The Saj, was the unity candidate who would restore peace and harmony to the party. Personally, I don’t see it happening. But I won’t speak too soon. Stranger things have happened in the Tory party of late.

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