Gordon Brown's powers of survival might outdo even Rasputin

The prime minister is bigger, tougher and more obsessive than anyone around him. This election struggle will have many twists

The prime minister is exposed as a dreadful bully: his poll ratings rise and Labour starts to close the gap. Confused? The recovery is bumping along the bottom, house prices stall and independent economists say drastic cuts must come. And on the economy… Labour's ratings are rather good. Perplexed? The chancellor denounces Gordon Brown's people as "the forces of hell" – and cheerfully continues his budget plans. Staggered?

By any normal calculus, this is a dead administration, out for the count with no hope of revival. Brown is not liked. He has survived yet another botched coup attempt, a detailed and hostile book-length exposé fanned by hostile newspapers; semi-open warfare with Alistair Darling; and the grim unfolding of the human consequences of a "bust" he promised us would never happen.

It's the political equivalent of Rasputin, who in 1916 was given enough poison in cakes and wine to kill five men; then shot four times, clubbed and castrated and dumped in the icy river Neva (where he finally drowned, but only after struggling out of his bonds and a carpet wrapped around him). The Russian aristocrats got the stroppy monk in the end, but the legend of his struggle to live long survived his death.

If Brown took Labour through to the election and emerged still leading the largest party, which is arithmetically possible on the basis of the most recent polling, then it would be just as remarkable. Written off by Westminster and almost all columnists, including this one, as a dead man walking, he's suddenly leapt from the grave and begun the hokey cokey. You have to admit, it's one heck of a story. What's going on?

There are two answers. The first is that in politics, stamina and self-belief are crucial. Brown is just bigger, tougher and more obsessive than anyone else around him. He loses his temper, damages good furniture and is generally, as one Downing Street insider puts it, "a very difficult man to work for". But he gets up every morning, shakes himself and keeps on going. Aside from power and family, he has no other interests. In human terms, that is generally a weakness. Just now, it's a strength.

The second answer is more important, and follows directly from the first. People hate being taken for granted and told what they think. The Westminster classes tut-tut at Horrid Gordon, and say he's toast, and don't worry, Nice Dave will be along in a tick. And voters, who for a long time thought the same, look up and think: just hold on a minute.

In the economy, there is almost no sign of things getting better. That 0.3% growth in the last quarter, propped up by the VAT cut and a last seasonal splash, is still accompanied by businesses going bust, families cutting spending and general gloom about the future. In these circumstances, people want a hard nut, not a soft centre.

Labour focus groups have shown that many swing voters actually warm to Brown the more they hear about his brusqueness and temper. It may play badly in gentrified north London, but modern Britain is full of struggling, angry people, including bosses with short tempers who have to be coped with. Who looks worse? The bully or the whimpering complainers?

As the Tories know, the polls are telling the same message. They have been caught out by their original determination to "detoxify the brand" and sell David Cameron as a genial, gentle politician. The rumpus about whether he was airbrushed in his poster was the perfect simile for the wider Tory problem.

So Cameron's fluent, without-notes speech to his party's spring conference yesterday was an attempt to show he's a strong leader with thought-out policies. But it will take more than a few buzzwords such as "radicalism" and "optimism" – which peppered his speech – to convince the country that he's the man to lift us from recession.

As the heat turns on the Conservatives, they are starting to fight among themselves. There are two factions, the metropolitan trendies, led by Steve Hilton; and the bash-Brown traditionalists, led by Andy Coulson. On the economy, they are hamstrung by fear of talking in detail about cuts they know must come.

By biting their lips, they allow Labour to warn about terrible secret plans, and also make themselves seem less distinct. Darling now sounds more specific than Osborne – not what you would have predicted. Tory columnists are inflaming it all by demanding sharp turns to the right, or lining up behind one or other faction. Labour looks relatively united by comparison.

Many of the expelled Blairites are back, working alongside Team Brown, if only because they want David Miliband to have something to inherit. Even the failed Labour coup, which looked so disastrous, has ended all leadership speculation and thus helped Brown.

Does this mean that I think Brown can win the general election? Anything now seems possible, but the honest answer remains no. Helped by the shadowy Lord Ashcroft, the Tories have poured money into marginal constituencies, where they think they are doing much better than the national polls suggest and where, indeed, the election will be won or lost. They also expect help from the markets if a hung parliament looms. Fear of indecisive government and no early end to the deficit could hit the pound, and panic people towards the Conservatives.

It remains a tight call, and the real winners could yet be the Liberal Democrats. The mood inside No 10 and the Treasury has been electrified by recent polling, and there is excitement at the prospect of a bare knuckle fight over economic policy.

There are few signs that Brown will jolt the country by calling that election as early as this week. Alistair Darling still expects to deliver his budget. Labour's general election team is still planning for a later polling day, probably 6 May, though everyone now adds: "But that's today. Gordon will choose."

And in the media, there is one lesson we all need to learn again: humility. The more something in politics is predicted, the less likely it is to turn out that way. This is a psychological, human struggle, rather than a mathematical formula, in a complicated world full of perverse outcomes and surprising twists. Perhaps one day there will be an ironic pop song about Gordon. It won't go "Ra, Ra, Rasputin, Russia's greatest love machine…", but it could just be another story about a great survivor.