If the opinion polls and bookmakers are right, in six days Ken Livingstone will be the elected mayor of London, rubbing his hands with glee at the prospect of presiding over the capital.
With all other candidates trailing so far behind Ken in the polls and the betting book closed, it seems the London mayoral election is all over bar the voting. Frank Dobson's campaign battles on despite the fact that he appears constantly bewildered by it all. Steven Norris has managed to distance himself from Conservative Central Office by creating his own brand of liberal politics: Nozzerism. And the Liberal Democrat candidate, Susan Kramer, has brought an earnest, but ultimately unelectable form of politics to the contest.
At ground level, "cheeky" Ken's lead in the polls is so impressive he hardly needs a party machine behind him. He has opted instead for a campaign crammed with high-profile appearances across the capital and an endless round of face-to-face debates with the other candidates. Such is the attraction of his chirpy Cockney personality that he hasn't needed to say much of substance. If he turns up and smiles that is enough. When he has made the headlines - suggesting international business killed more people than Hitler and supporting the anti-capitalist marchers - the criticism has been muted and Teflon Ken has emerged to fight another day. He even managed to turn his promise about never leaving the Labour Party into a positive campaign mantra: "Disraeli said `Damn your principles and stick to your party.' I don't agree."
His supporters will hear none of it when it is suggested that instead of a mayoral campaign it has turned into a shameless victory parade conducted from the top of the Livingstone purple election battle bus. Perhaps the real bloody-nosed battle has already been won. It could be argued that fighting to get onto the Labour selection list, losing to Frank Dobson and eventually deciding to stand as an independent, was the real victory. Ken wouldn't admit as much, but the entire mayoral election campaign has faded somewhat in recent weeks, while he has shaken off most of the other candidates (Steven Norris looks like picking up a large proportion of second preference votes) and is basking in pre-mayoral glory.
Step forward Red Ken the London play. Yes, Theatreland has turned Red Ken into Snogging Ken the play where in one scene a robotic Blairite MP turns to a Millbank apparatchik and says: "What do the focus groups say?" "We dissolved them," says the apparatchik. "They all wanted to vote for Ken." Livingstone's smiling face even graces the chests of young voters wearing vibrant Red Ken T-shirts.
Ken, known to his campaign team as The Candidate, which makes him sound like some kind of secret agent or Quentin Tarantino character, is conducting a love-in with Londoners and it is not all one-sided. Witness his rapid fire witty one-liners and it makes even the most hardened voters melt. Ken's approach is simple: appeal to the legendary sarcasm of Londoners.
Passing the Imperial War Museum the other day, Ken fired off a stream of his familiar, pithy oneliners, shouting down a microphone from the top of his battle bus: "Ooh, it seems like only last week that Putin the war criminal was here at the Imperial War Museum. He was probably buying up everything they had to spare." And stopping outside the offices of MI5: "Here with are with jolly old MI5. Somewhere in there they've got a file on me . . . hope I'll get their support next Thursday." It works. Londoners have lapped it up. And even if there are fears within The Candidate's camp that's because he is so far ahead in the polls his supporters will stay at home on May 4th, the safe money is still on Ken.
If Ken wins, the real work begins on May 5th. He will have to work within the limits of his power to improve transport in London, bring the conductors back onto the buses and improve the police. Crucially for Mr Blair, it is unlikely that Ken will waste much time turning the screws on Downing Street if he thinks London isn't getting its fair share of the government's bulging war chest, tightly in the grasp of Mr Brown with all the strength of an overly-protective father.
Ken will never escape from the cheeky, chirpy Cockney tag. And would he really want to? But can he make the transition from a backbench MP who gets up Mr Blair's nose to representing Londoners on the world stage?
