Sketch: Veritable volcano of sincerity was as thick and cloying as Icelandic ash

AN air of earnestness enveloped Manchester as British political history was made last night. Almost as thick as an Icelandic volcanic eruption, the air reflected the vexed period in our political history in which we find ourselves.

In his opening salvo, Nick Clegg had a go at our "greedy bankers", Gordon Brown warned of the dangers of a "double-dip recession" and David Cameron said sorry for the moat cleanings and duck houses that have so disenchanted voters.

Vigorous hand-wringing was the order of the day, as the party leaders made enormous efforts to appear in touch with an angry electorate.

From Britain's best-known son of the manse there were familiar references to his childhood as the Prime Minister spoke of the youth club that his father ran to get kids off the streets.

On immigration, Cameron told of a recent encounter with a 40-year-old "black man", who had informed him that Labour's immigration control system was letting down the immigrant community.

Clegg told of a paediatric ward that he had visited that was empty because of an inability of hospitals to recruit foreign doctors.

The earnestness, however, was mercifully short lived, and perhaps surprisingly it was Brown who cracked the first joke.

It wouldn't have made it on to the Morecambe and Wise Christmas Special, but it was at least an effort. He thanked Cameron for using Lord Ashcroft's cash to produce campaign posters that showed him smiling.

Not great, but it raised a smattering of laughter amongst this audience, specially chosen by age, ethnicity and gender, but expressly forbidden from clapping or jeering. By now, Brown was getting into his stride. "You can't airbrush policies, like you airbrush posters," he scolded Cameron.

That insult was the signal for normal political service to resume as they clashed on schools, police and health – subjects that the absent Alex Salmond would say have little relevance to Scotland, given that they are dealt with by the Scottish Parliament.

Brown was tackled by Nick Grimson, a member of the audience from an army family and a member of the TA.

Soldiers, Mr Grimson said, were under equipped and under paid.

A slight sigh was detected from the floor, as Brown claimed he had increased defence spending – a claim that has got him into trouble before now.

He also mentioned writing to families who had lost loved ones in action – something else that he had got into trouble for. "I would not send troops into battle unless they were properly equipped," he insisted.

Meanwhile, the Conservative leader was forced to fend off a two-pronged attack from Clegg and Brown.

"I agree with Nick," was an oft heard phrase from the Prime Minister's lips.

However, Cameron refused to buckle under the pressure. Indeed, for lovers of schadenfreude the lack of buckling from any of them was undoubtedly the most disappointing aspect of the evening.

The arguments will rage over who came out of this with the most credit, but there were no massive blunders, no appalling gaffes, no tears or breakdowns and as yet no careers crumbling to dust.

Their performances were drearily competent.

A career-ending faux-pas was not the only thing missing last night.

If this show is to receive the sort of critical acclaim received by proper television programmes like the X-Factor and Strictly Come Dancing, the specially selected audience must come to the fore.

Leaving aside the carefully prepared questions from the floor, the lack of audience participation gave the occasion a strangely clinical atmosphere.

Perhaps the chairman Alastair Stewart should have been replaced by Jeremy Kyle.

Kyle's baying mob and lie detector would have sexed up the session.

But such innovations would no doubt be contrary to the 76 point rulebook drawn up for this unique but sanitised occasion.