David Cameron's 'Twitter reshuffle" has big ambitions - spreading the word More to the point: the junior governing party has shifted its power base in Government to ensure greater day-to-day influence over domestic policy. In addition to Laws at Education, Jeremy Browne has moved from the Foreign Office to become a Minister of State at the Home Office. Norman Lamb, one of the Deputy PM's closest allies, has gone to Health. When next you hear that Cameron has marched decisively to the Right in this reshuffle, bear in mind the Lib Dem moles placed by "Karla" Clegg in all the key domestic departments. The granular detail and instant mythology spawned by a reshuffle add to the gaiety of the nation, if not of the political class: my favourite example of Chinese whispers (or Chinese tweets, more accurately) was the accusation that Cameron had sacked Cheryl Gillan while "swilling wine" and, much worse, "chillaxing." Within hours this had escalated across social media into the image of the red-cheeked PM prancing around his office in a John Belushi-style toga with a wine box in one hand and a clipboard in the other, shouting: "You? Ha! You are so sacked. Next! The very much more boring truth was that there had been a reception in the office before these delicate interviews and a few bottles and glasses were left over. Cameron was as sober as a judge; or, more precisely, as the magistrate's son that he is. Even in his twenties, I recall, he was never a big drinker, preferring the rituals and pleasures of a fine cigar - a "log" as he put it. None the less, No 10 knew in advance that this would be the first Twitter reshuffle and pre-emptively launched the #reshuffle hashtag to give a measure of coherence to (though not, obviously, to control) the inevitable torrent of speculation, disclosure and instant analysis. From all the anecdotage about the Coalition's first real overhaul - the tears, tantrums and tippling - what matters is the broader message detected in the runes by the two governing parties and voting public, the strategic implications of this fast and furious political sketch show. I think those hoping for a Rightward tilt are confusing Kremlinology (people) with Sovietology (policy trajectory). Yes, Owen Paterson is now in charge of Defra, and is unlikely to come to work in recycled trainers. My hunch is that he'll do the job capably and in a more eclectic style than his opponents suggest. But - whatever Paterson does - the Government will still be a Coalition and Clegg will still be Deputy PM. Cameron, in any case, has witnessed first-hand every lurch to the Right by the modern Tory party. Over the years, he has heard all the arguments in favour of such shifts, addressed to Hague, IDS and Michael Howard when each of them was leader: we are alienating the "core vote" with all this "metropolitan" stuff; Ukip will kill us in the marginals; it's not Right-wing, it's "mainstream"; the centre ground has shifted rightwards; and so on. None of these silken pleas alters the simple, irreducible fact: against an electable Labour Party, a Right-wing Tory party will lose. Fume all you wish: but get used to it. The real change is not ideological but psychological. To describe it as "presentational" does not do justice to the objective - although the Government's public diplomacy is a significant part of it. When consulted about the reshuffle, Craig Oliver, Cameron's communications director, requested that each department have at least one practised communicator in its ranks. In his interview with Patrick Hennessy today, Michael Fallon, the new Minister of State for Business, discloses a series of deregulatory, pro-growth measures with infectious panache. At the Department of Business, he is joined by the 33-year-old Matthew Hancock, a close ally of the Chancellor, and co-author of a fine book on the financial crash, who shares Fallon's Tiggerish ability to inspire confidence in an audience. At the Treasury, Osborne now has two accomplished ambassadors in Sajid Javid and Greg Clark, and - thanks in part to the match-making talents of Lord Coe - the Olympic stardust of Paul Deighton, chief executive of the 2012 Games. To be a minister is to decide and to deliver. But it is also to explain. New Labour was generally explanation-rich and content-poor. The Coalition's problem has been the reverse: it oversees a remarkable range of root-and-branch reforms, a top-to-toe review of the very nature of the state. Yet its political narrative is conspicuously less than the sum of its parts. I am emphatically not talking about PR, or gloss, or packaging, or logos. I mean the very language with which ministers explain themselves, the countenance they present to the world, the conviction they display, and - above all else - the hand they stretch out to the voter. No politician in modern history has better understood that imperative than Bill Clinton. In his remarkable speech at the Democratic National Convention last Wednesday, he channelled Ronald Reagan's famous question: "Are we better off than we were when [Barack Obama] took office?" A variant of that question will certainly decide the outcome of the 2015 election in this country. More striking to British ears, however, was Clinton's annexation - subliminal, deliberate or coincidental? - of Cameron's favourite slogan: his rhetorical embrace of the "we're-all-in-this-together society." It sounded mightily persuasive when the 42nd President said it. The real test of this reshuffle is whether the refreshed Team Cameron can persuade us they mean it, too.