"Antes de ques te cases, mira lo que haces!" exclaimed Michael Portillo. He had come out at last, as a Spaniard. It was the first Tory leadership bid to be conducted in a foreign tongue.

"I am half Spanish and proud of it!" he told the conference. Some of us can remember when few Tories would admit to having been to Spain, never mind having caballero blood, still less addressing them in the language. It means, roughly, "look before you leap."

But it was a dazzling show by Portillo mark II. The Spanish half is clearly above the belt. Those thick, fleshy lips, as lavish and plump as a World of Leather sofa. The thick, fleshy hair, curled majestically in what was once a cruel quiff.

But no longer. This was the kindly, inclusive, humble, cuddly Portillo. "We are a party for all Britons, black Britons, British Asians... we are for people whatever their sexual orientation!" Delegates near me stirred uneasily. To some of this lot, an inclusive Tory party is like an inclusive freemasons - it misses the point.

But he was so unrelentingly nice. He even thanked the electors for having thrown him out in 1997 and allowed him to visit the real world, terra incognita for most politicians. Having memorised the speech he could stroll round the stage making inclusive gestures. (A friend saw him rehearsing on Monday, when he was advised to stop making the cupping motion with both hands held upwards. "It looks like, erm, you know..." he was told.)

Now and again he pointed at William Hague and announced that thanks to his wisdom and courage, Tories would win the next election. It was as blatant as that. The man will stop at nothing to get Hague's job. But the most blatant chutzpah came when he announced that the economy was doing so well that the imminent Tory government would be able to increase public spending and cut taxes. "Yes, thanks to Gordon Brown, we are booming as never before!" he somehow omitted to say.

But Portillo's wasn't the only weird proverb. The day resembled that competition for runic rural sayings, e.g. "It is a foolish man who wipes his bottom with a hedgehog."

During a question session in the morning someone announced "I am a farmer and proud of it!" (There's a lot of pride about. No one has yet stood up and said something like "I am a gay Spanish haulier and deeply ashamed of it.") He wanted to know what Mr Hague was going to do for farmers.

The Tory leader blamed the problems of the countryside on the people in Islington wine bars. I must find out which he means, since all the nation's evil seems to be fomented there. The Gay Gaucho, perhaps. "Scrap the pound, blame the victim, and another bottle of your lightly oaked Rioja, Miguel..."

When he first became an MP, a farmer told him, "Mr Hague, if you ever see a satisfied farmer or a dead donkey, sit on it, because you'll never see another". The conference roared with laughter, then fell strangely silent. What could it mean? Why are dead donkeys so rare? And why should you sit on one? Or on a satisfied farmer, for that matter? Was it a new battle cry: "Hague's call to nation: sit on dead donkeys!"

Had he run it past his spin doctors? "D'yer think they'll understand a reference to moribund equines?" "Oh, yes, William, whatever you do, don't drop the dead donkey!"

Grisliest moment of the day was the line up of celebrities onstage for the culture debate. Mike Batt, Jan Leeming, Mitch Murray, Mike Yarwood, Ed 'Stewpot' Stewart - and they were the highlights. The biggest cheer was for Antony Worrall-Thompson, who has actually been on TV within the last decade. The rest were melted down by Madame Tussaud's years ago, possibly to make John Prescott.