Vince Cable's 'exotic spresm' fails to rouse Lib Dem conference

There’s an art to announcing the time of one’s departure. Make it too late and it will look to everyone as if you’ve been pushed. Make it too immediate and it will look as if you are desperately clinging on to power. Vince Cable has seemingly achieved the impossible by doing both at the same time.

For a while now there has been a widespread feeling among Liberal Democrat activists that Cable has to go. As a leader he’s been more black hole than rallying cry. An absence rather than a presence.

But last week, when he sought to reassure his party that he wasn’t going to be around for too long he only made things worse by saying he would stay until Brexit was either resolved or stopped. That could be years. Years in which most Lib Dems would rather Cable took a back seat.

There’s also an art to announcing one’s arrival. Cable is not immune to vanity and self delusion, but even he can see the writing on the wall. There was a time when he could have been the party poster boy – the man who could tell it like it was – but now he is yesterday’s man.

Nick Clegg has commanded far more interest than the Lib Dem leader at this year’s conference, while some of the party faithful have openly lamented the loss of Tim Farron’s charisma. Things really are that bad. So both Cable and his audience were anticipating his closing speech with some trepidation. Something to be endured rather than enjoyed.

But Cable had wanted to make an instant impression on everyone. A soundbite that would make the news headlines. To his credit, he managed it. Just not in the way he intended. He had imagined himself bouncing on to the stage, his eyes smouldering as he made intimate contact with those in the front 10 rows and got the whole hall eating out of his hands as he made a risque gag about the Tory party being locked in an “erotic spasm” over Brexit. Come again, Vince! Ooh, yes please!

He’d worked on the line, time and again the night before in his hotel room. And each time he absolutely nailed it. Hell, he was king of the Lib Dem sex scene. Only the year before he had written Open Arms, a far from best-selling thriller about a whole bunch of people who were secret Lib Dems, in which emotional and physical dams constantly burst within the main characters. Nobody did it better than Cable. Who’s the Daddy?

Except when the words “erotic spasm” appeared on the autocue, he just couldn’t bring himself to say them. What came out was an entirely different, involuntary, emission. “Exotic spresm,” he garbled, somehow managing the almost impossible feat of sounding both more and less embarrassing than he had originally intended. The audience didn’t know whether to laugh or try to pretend that it had never happened.

The exotic spresm rather did for the rest of the speech. Which was a problem as there were still 35 minutes to go. He went through his well-scripted routine of slagging off Boris Johnson and Jeremy Corbyn, but the spark just wasn’t there. Just the odd smatterings of polite applause as he ploughed on in a dull monotone.

Seldom had a call to action to stop Brexit been made to sound so depressing. Or futile. We’re here because we’re here because we’re here: the new mantra of Cable’s Lib Dems.

What he wanted was a march of the moderates. The moderates quite fancied a march too. They just didn’t want one with Cable leading from the front. That much was clear. Almost half the conference hall had been curtained off to make it look as if it were more full than it actually was, and the few security guards present were there more to make sure nobody left than to prevent anyone getting out of hand. Chance would be a fine thing.

The march of the moderates slowed to a near plod. Most leaders’ speeches aim to end on a high. Cable’s just petered out. With not even one final exotic spresm to send everyone home with a smile on their face.