KEY POINTS:
Watching John Key wandering Queenstown's carefree boardwalks, it's easy to imagine him sleepwalking to victory. He's relaxed and upbeat in the sunshine this Wednesday, despite the southerly gale blowing off Lake Wakitipu.
Locals step forward to shake his hand and wish him luck. Some want his autograph. People he approaches are mostly foreign tourists, bemused by the television cameras and trailing media but happy to chat.
He does small talk well. There's a lot of time to kill on a New Zealand-style presidential election campaign.
Week three has been good for Key and National. He stole a march with the weekend's foreshadowing of financial help for victims of the recession - the details would not come until yesterday.
On Tuesday came One News' revelations about Winston Peters' active promotion of New Zealand First donor Owen Glenn as prospective consul for Monaco - and Helen Clark's knowledge of this. This had the twin-torpedo effect of stalling the resilient Peters' momentum and damaging Labour.
And it was vindication for Key who, hours earlier in Christchurch, reaffirmed his stance that National would not deal with Peters after the election, even if it meant remaining in Opposition.
As the cameramen indicate they've got enough, Key rests a hand on Bill English's shoulder and the entourage adjourns to a cafe.
It's halfway through an intended day of consolidation in National's heartland - a speech to a tourism industry lunch in Queenstown (where Key joked about arranging a bungy-jump for English, Jeanette Fitzsimons-style) and a two-hour drive to Invercargill to address the party faithful.
But an hour later the victory march is stalled at a layby on the edge of the lake, dealing with allegations of Key's knowledge of a notorious fraud 20 years ago.
Dwarfed by the Remarkables, as cellphone coverage fades in and out and squalls skit across the lake, Key is faced with Labour's second attempt to lasso him on its campaign theme of trust.
The first was the issue of Key's stake in Tranz Rail while National's associate transport spokesman. Blindsided by TVNZ over inconsistencies about the size of his shareholding, he performed badly.
Now, with Labour obviously worried about the traction Key is gaining after an uninspiring start, another inconsistency has been dusted off.
It has been that kind of election campaign - the balance tilting one way, then the next with neither of the two main parties building decisive momentum.
To observe either leader on the campaign trail is to realise that there are, in fact, two campaigns going on. There is the phony campaign - the mall walks, pre-school and factory visits where the leaders show they are in touch with voters' concerns.
But these photo opportunities serve as mere backdrops for the real campaign - how the leaders handle media questions about the political issue of the day.
And Key, still a political greenhorn compared to Helen Clark, is getting better at both forms of the game.
On Tuesday, the aviation nut flew in the cockpit of the plane which carried him and trailing media from Auckland to Christchurch after the holiday weekend. Later at Air New Zealand's engineering plant, he posed for the cameras in the cockpit of a 737 in for maintenance. He listened intently as staff at the world-class facility took him through the intricacies of wing and engine parts in a one-and-a-half hour visit.
Sandwiched between was a visit to the Rabbit Patch pre-school where he read the children a story, recalled his distaste for his mother's jellied eel sandwiches and talked about the family cat. "It comes up and sleeps on our bed every night. In fact, my wife says it sleeps in my bed more than I do."
He often mentions his wife Bronagh - or the "chief executive" when it comes to arranging holidays, as he tells tourism operators the next day.
He seems as at ease with children as with adults. See John in the sandpit, see John throw the ball. But the media focus is on the day's "standup" outside the Christchurch courthouses where Key adds flesh to National's law and order policy. First question: will he rethink his stance on Peters?
Labour has tried to depict Key as unreliable, flip-flopping on issues, changing his story to suit the audience. And he is prone to saying more than he should then pulling himself up, adding a rider with a schoolboyish grimace.
The political hacks know this and ask six variations on the same question. But Key is steadfast. A National-led government does not want to be dragged down by Peters' scandals. And if the numbers mean National can't govern without him, Peters will go with Labour anyway.
The next day comes a bigger test, although Key's team knows the H-fee bomb is ticking, after it was raised on left-leaning blogsite The Standard.
The two Crown cars remain parked on the edge of the lake for 20 minutes as Key responds to the Herald's Eugene Bingham on the H-fee foreign exchange transactions when he was with Elders Merchant Finance, and discrepancies in his recollection of whether he was there at the time. There is a further lengthy stop at the little hamlet of Athol.
Key will call Bingham four times to clarify his position. By the time he reaches Invercargill, it's too late for the TV channels to have him on their 6pm bulletins.
But he puts a convincing rebuttal to the cameras when he does reach town.
An hour later at the Invercargill Workingmen's Club, 400 party faithful stand and applaud warmly as Key enters. There is more applause as he outlines policies on core issues - economic policy, health, law and order, education.
His message is traditional National - trim the bureaucracy, reduce red tape, lower taxes, reduce domestic inflation, encourage growth. Taking questions, he shows his comprehensive grasp of party policy and makes a convincing PM in waiting.
Early campaign glitches - Kiwisaver pruning, research and development credit axing and the underwhelming tax cuts - are all but forgotten.
Key lacks the charisma of our stronger recent leaders. Without the aid of a microphone his voice is not powerful and can sound monotonous. But what you see is what you get: even-tempered, not easily fazed, personable.
He speaks better off the cuff than when reading jargon-heavy speeches, though he sometimes mangles the English language. But this only adds to the everyman image.
He could become our most boring PM in living memory, as reliably robotic as a Kevin Rudd or John Howard.
In her salad days as PM, Clark was known as Teflon Helen. Key is not there yet, but his blue-tinged suits are developing an eel-like sheen.
