IT IS often said that Tony Blair is arrogant. How is an ordinary mortal, or a passing columnist, to know whether or not this is true? If you want a definitive answer to that one, you'll have to send an SAE to Ten Downing Street. What follows is by way of an educated guess. Or maybe just a guess.

Events, those inconveniences to a government, have turned against Mr Blair and thrown his administration into disarray. The Dome, petrol, pensions, a high-profile book by the political journalist Andrew Rawnsley, all have popped up to spoil New Labour's party. And all those passing bandwagons, wheels spinning and drivers hissing, have given William Hague something to hop on.

The arrogant tag arrived when the petrol evaporated, along with polls accusing Mr Blair of being out of touch. Now from my end of the sofa, the vicinity in which I mostly encounter the Prime Minister, Tony Blair never strikes me as arrogant, though at the start of the petrol panic he did appear to be dislocated from events and public opinion.

No, from the sofa he has seemed at various times evangelical and petulant, nervous even. Sometimes he appears a little supercilious, sometimes honest and passionate. Often, he looks like a man surprised by destiny. This is not to suggest he doesn't want what he's got, just to point out that he looks apprehensive, as if a juggernaut were looming from behind. Which it is, if the truckers carry out their threat and once again block the roads with their big bellies.

Funnily enough, the first satirical image of Tony Blair was that of the trendy vicar of St Albion's, as conjured up by Private Eye, a conceit Harry Enfield later transferred to television. From where I sit, that chimes with the man, capturing nicely what seems to be a prickly earnestness and an eagerness to convert everyone to his way of thinking. And is there not a gust of impatience with the congregation to be detected behind the 'ordinary kind of guy prime minister' act?

Our perception of celebrities, from TV cooks to prime ministers, sets quickly and can refuse to budge. This week, Delia Smith made the headlines, instead of a nice, all-in-one sponge cake. She attacked various fellow chefs, dismissing her TV rival Antony Worral Thompson as 'repulsive', while declaring her hatred for Gary Rhodes.

In delivering these and many other harsh thoughts, Delia said: "So I am not too nice, really. See how bitchy I can be?"

It was faintly demeaning that Auntie Delia should carry on so. Yet living with your public image must be tiring at times, as the newly listening and half-apologetic Tony Blair is discovering now that the shine has gone off New Labour.

In many ways, a huge majority, enduring popularity and an enfeebled Opposition were a curse for New Labour, letting them worry about why they were so liked. Oddly, instead of boldly making a noise about its intentions, unexpected popularity made the Government proceed with caution and too many over-the-shoulder glances.

The sudden intimation of failure is a good thing. It's wake-up time for Tony Blair, and his conference speech on Tuesday seemed to recognise this. A list of the buzz words shows him listening nine times, fighting on 16 occasions, apologising once, mentioning choice 19 times and pensioners nine times - all in all, a touch contrite yet still looking ahead.

Now his sweat-slicked speech is over, Blair should do two things. One, buy some new deodorant. And two, close his eyes and picture William Hague standing outside Number Ten, arms waving in triumph. At this point, he should open his eyes, rub away the scary daydream, and try leading with conviction - and a few more political convictions.