The Clark Kent of politics

But despite everyone yawning at Malcolm Rifkind's name - including, it seems, Malcolm Rifkind - I can't help wondering. I suspect that underneath those owlish Clark Kent glasses and bank manager suits is a man longing to wear his underpants over his trousers.

There is, for a start, a very puckish sense of humour; and a big, infectious, roaring laugh. "Tony Blair," says Rifkind, as we talk in his grand glass and wood office with fantastic views over Westminster, "is like Bill Clinton without the sex." How do you know, without the sex, I say, and there is a telling glint behind those earnest lenses. "As far as we know..." he continues. "Like Bill Clinton, he has this ability to make people from different political persuasions feel comfortable... everyone in the big tent sort of style. One recognises the skill but Blair's problem is that it is rested on such shallow foundations."

Rifkind's problem, on the other hand, is a perceived over-earnestness. Many have difficulty imagining him as a Tory party Superman. The public think him very intellectual and studious... I begin, but the question is only half out before Rifkind interjects volubly. "No! No! It's a wicked misunderstanding - a tremendous deception of the public! I left school with very indifferent qualifications." I would have been far too polite to ask what they were, but Rifkind is far too secure in his own abilities to wait to be asked. "I got 2 Bs and a C." I don't believe him, because he studied law at Edinburgh University. "I'm telling you!" he insists. He intended staying on for a sixth year at George Watson's College, but threw in a late application and received an offer while hitchhiking round Europe. He graduated with a law degree, a Masters in social sciences, and was called to the Bar in 1970. "A late developer," he laughs.

You don't need to see the certificates to see the obvious. Rifkind is witty, bright, sharp enough to carry a health warning. But as MP for Edinburgh Pentlands, the seat he held for 25 years before losing it in 1997, he was also a stalwart of Margaret Thatcher's government. Ironically, Thatcher ultimately regarded him as one of her biggest critics, but he clocked up 18 years unbroken service as a minister, working his way up the Scottish Office before heading the departments of Transport, Defence, and finally the Foreign Office.

Putting it bluntly, isn't he yesterday's man, not tomorrow's? Rifkind pauses. He is impressively articulate, never stumped for an answer, but seems slightly uneasy. "People will make their own judgment on that. We are having a marvellous discussion at the moment, through the good offices of the media, about whether the next Tory leader should be in their 30s, their 40s or their 50s; whether they should be public school or private school... all that stuff. I am absolutely of the conviction that within three months of whoever is chosen being made leader, the public will have totally lost interest in their background. What they will be judged on is what they are saying today, whether they are able to inspire people, to communicate, to provide some vision as to how today's problems should be dealt with."

Outgoing leader Michael Howard has made age an issue. He was too old, he declared, to lead the party at the next election. Rifkind is 59 this month. "I am the same age as David Davis if you want to write about that," he grins. "Only 18 months between us." But the division between Rifkind and fellow contender Davis is not really age. It's how closely each was allied to a government that is - to many people's relief - consigned to history. "I don't think going back to the future with Sir Malcolm is the way forward for the party," says one party activist. "There is such a head of steam building up behind Davis now it is hard to see anyone else getting a look in." Davis has relatively clean hands. Wasn't Howard's problem, after all, his inability to convince voters that he was a new, fresh prospect?

"I don't think it's a question of what government you were part of," argues Rifkind, "but what your reputation was at that time. Michael Howard was a very controversial Home Secretary. A lot of people loved him, and a lot of people didn't love him, and that was an issue when he came to be leader. Now people will have to draw their own conclusions about myself or Kenneth Clarke or David Davis."

Significantly, the Evening Standard columnist referred to Rifkind not just as "posh" but as a "posh Scot". There has been an increasing edge in London, post devolution, about the number of Scots in positions of power. If Gordon Brown takes over from Tony Blair and Charles Kennedy remains at the helm of the Lib Dems, it is conceivable that the three main parties could be led by Scots. Would that cause problems? "I don't think it would cause any problems at all," insists Rifkind, unconvincingly. "I think that people are judged by their personal qualities and merits. Each party will conclude which individual person is most attractive to the biggest group in the party and can best deliver. The particular part of the country they come from may be taken into account but I don't think it will be decisive."

But anti-Scottish rumblings are already evident. "Sure," he admits, "sure. I think there is legitimate concern in certain parts of England that there is unfinished business, that Scotland, Wales, and Northern Ireland either have, or are about to have, devolution and how do we deal with purely English matters in the House of Commons? I think it is quite interesting that all the surveys of Scottish public opinion show that most Scots agree that on matters purely affecting England, members of parliament representing English constituencies should have the final say."

If Gordon Brown becomes leader, would he prove more or less formidable than Blair? "Brown is more intellectually able than Blair ever was," says Rifkind, and then, with perfect comic timing, adds, "And Brown thinks that as well." He laughs heartily. "Blair has been - not now, but for a good few years - a remarkable political phenomenon." Closer to the traditions of Liberal Democracy than Labour, but then, adds Rifkind acerbically, he wouldn't have been Prime Minister had he joined the Lib Dems.

"Blair has more power than any Prime Minister for years but he doesn't know what to do with it. He's looking for causes and issues. The dragons are not there to slay. The ones that are, he's not prepared to tackle." Rifkind accuses the Labour party of "pinching" Tory ideas. They no longer harbour notions of socialism, or nationalising industry. They have embraced free enterprise, he says, and convinced the electorate they no longer need to vote Tory to achieve that. "It was a compliment to us," insists Rifkind. Only a politician could spin a defeat that gave the Tories fewer seats than any time since 1832 into a compliment.

But never mind Labour ideology. What's theirs? Rifkind says the Tory party needs a new identity and new priorities. We live in a less ideological age than ever before, where the majority of people do not support any single party. Where once 20 per cent of the electorate were considered floating voters, now 80 per cent are. So the emphasis of Tory policies must widen out from the narrow set of issues dear to the hearts of core Conservatives, like immigration and asylum, and law and order. But to what? What are the specific policy areas that Rifkind would promote to appeal to the British people?

There is that inevitable pause that inevitably occurs when politicians are asked for concrete rather than abstract. "I think you have to... well you start from saying... what are the challenges the public themselves feel are crucially important? It is the reform of the health service and schools and other public services. The Labour government has been investing vast sums of money in the health service - 40% more - and yet most people don't see a dramatic improvement. Why is that?

"What the last eight years has demonstrated is that simply throwing money is not enough. Some of these resources may be necessary but they do not solve the problem, and therefore you require much more honest appraisal of how these resources are to be used. I believe part of the answer requires a radical decentralisation of control to the local level."

If Labour pinched traditional Conservative commitment to free enterprise, Rifkind seems prepared to pinch traditional Labour commitment to public services in return. But then, is his conservatism perhaps different because he is a Scot? "Probably," he admits. Certainly, there is little of the patrician manner of senior English Tories like Michael Heseltine.

"Shall I call you Sir Malcolm?" asks the photographer. Rifkind's answer is slightly dry, humorous. "Why don't you," he says, "just call me Malcolm. It's a name that served me well enough for the first 50 years of my life." I've heard similar responses from a number of titled people. Rifkind is one of the few to be convincing.

His father's family, Lithuanian Jews, first came to Edinburgh in the 1890s. His father was a small businessman; his mother was from Manchester. "They were remarkably tranquil people who didn't demand much out of life. As children, my brother and I had a very secure, relaxed upbringing. We were not wealthy. We lived in a flat in Marchmont. My father never had a car, and we used to go on not particularly grand holidays... to Southport or Brighton or Blackpool."

He finds it difficult to know how much his Jewish upbringing influenced him. "I'm not an atheist. I have a belief in a spiritual dimension but I don't go in much for orthodox religion. It is just difficult to look round this extraordinary world without thinking there's something more than a material explanation. It's so extraordinary, so fantastic. It was Harold Wilson who said... he didn't say much that was profound... but he said, if the world is just a great joke, the question still remains, whose joke?"

Rifkind wanted to explore this extraordinary world, and as a student, toured India. He stayed with a family with a Scottish wife and Indian husband, eating porridge for breakfast and curry for lunch. After graduation, he took a job for a couple of years, teaching at a university in Zimbabwe, a job for which he cheerfully claims he was "totally unqualified". Touring South Africa, he met his future wife, Edith, a zoologist. Love at first sight? "Interest at first sight," he says. He was dating her friend at the time which must give the News of the World a flicker of hope if he gets to be leader. "Rifkind: Love Rat."

Seven years ago, Edith was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, a condition that has tested them both. Rifkind's own physical energy is very evident. "I have to adapt to her pace and that has become inevitably slower. But she does everything. She lives in London and drives. She has to pace herself because her MS is in her left leg and arm and if she does too much she gets generally fatigued." Was her illness an issue when considering the leadership? "We are very close and discuss things and I wouldn't do things, and she wouldn't do things, unless we had a broad agreement that this is the right way forward."

A broad agreement on the right way forward is exactly what the Tory party are currently seeking. His colleagues currently seem to be favouring the more superficially suave package of David Davis, but the Clark Kent of the election may yet blossom forth into Superman. He is, as we know, a late developer.