Sketch: Red-hot Ed, the adenoidal Adonis An elderly delegate proudly reminded him that he'd once given her a kiss. "You haven't kissed me, Ed," piped up a middle-aged woman, sadly. "I'm the lucky one - I got a kiss from you yesterday!" cooed another. The audience cheered. Up on stage, the Don Juan of Doncaster gave a nervous grin. Perhaps he was making a mental note to give Tom Jones's security people a call. Twenty-four hours after our adenoidal Adonis gave his big speech, his audience's ardour had yet to subside. In fact, it was no doubt inflamed further when he addressed them as "comrades." Well, he has said it's "time to move on from New Labour." Notably, the object of the hall's lust wasn't wearing a jacket, just shirt and tie. I say notably because it isn't till you see Mr Miliband without a jacket that you realise how skinny he is. And not just skinny - narrow. His shoulders are barely broader than his head. He has a ribcage the size of a sparrow's. No moobs, no gut, no love handles - his body just goes straight on down. He looks like a giant neck with feet. His audience didn't care. They didn't love him for his body. They loved him for his mind, the mind that works in an incredible way when it comes to school maths tests. In their eagerness to grab his attention they waved all kinds of striking objects. A pink teddy bear. A hard hat. A woman's brown leather boot. An open umbrella. A crutch, with a turquoise cardigan tied to it like some mad cable-knit flag. The dreamboat looked dazed. "Don't take it too far, this waving of garments," he burbled. We want to keep it decent! Reluctantly his admirers obeyed. Ooh, they do like it when he gets all strict.