Deborah Coddington: Secret of her success - dedication

There'll be dark treasonous mutterings from the political right for my column today but you've got to hand it to Helen Clark. Fresh from gluing together support for a government with such unlikely factions as United Future, the Greens and NZ First, she jumps on a plane and heads for Dublin to help clinch the World Cup.

Yes, maybe the International Rugby Board delegates had already decided New Zealand should host the Webb Ellis trophy but when New Zealand Rugby Union chairman Jock Hobbs said, "jump for your country", Clark asked, "how high?".

No doubt the last thing she needed was 30 hours of flying to the end of the earth just to make a five-minute speech.

That she's notoriously known to prefer a good book to a game of footy speaks volumes of her commitment to country over self.

Sure, I don't like - I hate - much of the "third way communitarian" psychobabble that emanates from her and her MPs, ending up as legislation telling us how we can live our lives.

But, from where I sit, there isn't much visionary stuff being projected by the Opposition (six MPs excepted). Just more carping about Benson-Pope's "bullying", CYS' "ignoring child abuse", immigration "scams", scaremongering about a bird flu "pandemic", and an inquiry into TVNZ, which will waste yet more taxpayers' money but ensure the look-at-me MPs a clip on TV3 news. Is this, and getting booted out at question time, their big picture?

Meanwhile the Prime Minister, whom they love to hate, finds her seat in first class, dons her earplugs and eye-mask, refuses the champagne and fine wines the rest of us can't resist, and arrives clear-skinned and bright-eyed in time to join Hobbs, Colin Meads and Tana Umaga for a carefully crafted argument in favour of giving New Zealand the big one.

We later learned Hobbs suggested she rewrite her speech - leave out the arrogance and gloating and let the country's record speak. (Memo to Clark: please pass that advice on to the Deputy Prime Minister.)

But let's not get too dewy-eyed. Clark knew it was a gamble with high stakes, and not just for rugby. Pull it off (the Cup bid, I mean) and she'd be a hero-in-arms with Hobbs, Meads, Moller and Umaga. She's as cunning as an out-house rodent.

As Prime Minister, she has won hearts in sections where most politicians don't bother.

In her first term, she got an angry business sector to fall about her feet organising talk-fests and innovation hui. Then she wooed the arty-farty brigade by increasing the arts budget and visiting film sets.

In her second term, she elevated fashion designers to an export status higher than winemakers and sheep-breeders. Now, surely regretting her "I'd rather read a book" line when her speeding entourage was caught, it's the sporty blokes' turn.

It's almost as if this once shy and insecure career politician deliberately plonks herself in the midst of those she's most uncomfortable with and forces herself to relax. A sort of team-building exercise where she's the only player. Did she really get a high out of posing with weird Tom Cruise? Does she go home and scrub her face with a flannel after public kissy-kissies with ringlet and lace-clad Trelise Cooper?

As a politician often asked to speak to school students, I was inevitably asked if I'd met Helen Clark. "Of course" was followed by: "What's she like?" It would insult their intelligence to pretend the question was a political one so I removed my Act MP hat when answering. "Actually," I said, "I don't know the woman, just as she doesn't know me". You can't form an informed opinion after a few meetings. She's focused, has a good sense of mischief but can be spikey, loves her job and works like a Trojan.

At a private party last Christmas she and Peter Davis spent about half an hour with my husband and me, clearly not in an attempt to win votes. Nonetheless, my husband was charmed by her intelligence, her seemingly genuine interest in their discussion, and, yes, her appearance.

She is one person to whom television does not do justice. An academic at heart, her skin is not aged by vain strivings to be tanned; her slim figure's not been biffed out of shape by pregnancies, nor have teenage children's all-night antics left lines of worry across her face.

I don't agree with them, but I can see why Kiwis think she's great and keep her at the top of the preferred Prime Minister polls. Question is, will she still be there when we win the 2011 World Cup?