He was the brilliant new kid on the the block, travelling across the land with a big jar of honey under his arm taunting the all powerful big clunking fists to a rumble. His name was Cassius Clay and the clunking fists he was hunting down were those of the 'big ugly bear', Sonny Liston. I was a young member of the 'clattering classes' and a great fan of Clay's, who would later change his name to Mohammed Ali. When Cassius Clay was first elevated to the position of chief challenger, the bookies had his chances at about 8-1. He was given less chance of beating Liston than David Cameron was given of beating Gordon Brown in the summer of 2007. But as time went on, and the precocious challenger lived up to all the predictions he made, some people started to believe. But the big ugly Brown bear hid himself away in a cave, and growled at everyone who dared challenge him, and most people thought he was invincible. But the day eventually came when the big clunking fists of Sonny Liston were forced to enter the ring to face up to the dazzling footwork and flashing cut and thrust of Cassius Clay.
The early rounds were even, with the champion Liston doing well. The clunking fists seemed to be biding their time, even if the challenger was doing better than expected, taking account of his inexperience. Victory for the big ugly Brown bear seemed only a matter of time. And then Clay started to find his range. Liston looked confused. This was not in the script. He had been promised some tasty morsels of Brown bear fodder, but found an opponent with rapier like jabs, moving like a butterfly, and stinging like a bee. Suddenly, the invincible big ugly bear was on the back foot. To begin with no-one believed this shift in dominance of the ring would last. The ugly Brown bear was only taking a rest - and his authority would surely return.
Round seven, and there was an excitement in the air. The crowd began to realise that the big ugly bear was too big, too ugly and too much like a bear to compete with the shiny new fleet footed athlete who was taunting him, flicking out jabs, uppercuts and then fading out of range of the ponderous clunking fists. Suddenly 26% more of the crowd thought Cassius Clay was going to whup the big ugly bear's backside, which was still sore from the mighty kick which Local Government electors had just given it. And at the start of Round 8, the big ugly Brown bear just stayed in his corner, big clunking fists dangling helplessly by his side, defeated, pathetic and abject, unable to go on. No-one who saw it will ever forget. It was all over. Cassius Cameron was Prime Minister. I really must stop allowing my imagination to run away with itself.