There aren't many politicians quoting Rudyard Kipling one moment and cracking jokes with a group of chain-smoking, mini-skirted women the next, but Bob McCartney is no ordinary politician.
Shankill Road-born and bred - his father worked in the shipyard, his mother in a mill - he became one of the North's leading barristers and now lives in leafy North Down where he is the local MP.
Nicknamed the Gold Coast, it's an exclusive area of handsome houses set in pretty seaside towns. But it has huge working-class estates too - White City, Kilcooley, and White Hill.
Sporting a white suit and shades on a sparkling sunny afternoon, McCartney strolls along Bangor's main street, chatting to shoppers. He playfully jabs a wealthy businessman sitting in his jeep, then runs across the road to hug a group of women pensioners on a day trip from Belfast.
He discusses the ins and outs of the Belfast Agreement with one voter, reminisces about the old Stadium Cinema on the Shankill with another. "To walk with kings/ Nor lose the common touch" is his motto, he says, quoting Kipling.
He is strongly anti-agreement. The Ulster Unionist leadership dislikes him even more than it dislikes the DUP and there is a determination to oust him from the seat he won six years ago.
The UUP candidate is Lady Sylvia Hermon, a former law lecturer and wife of retired RUC Chief Constable, Sir Jack. She seems ideally suited to North Down and, judging by the 1998 Assembly election results, she should win.
The sitting MP is undaunted. Lady Sylvia represents "fur-coat unionism and its time is long gone". He is confident of victory. "Sylvia Hermon is not fighting someone of an inferior social station. Bob McCartney might be working-class by birth but by profession and occupational success he is no longer so. The business and professional classes can vote for me without feeling they are belittling themselves."
He relishes the electoral battle. "I love a good fight. After 40 years in the law, you become well used to the adversarial ring. I like a bit of opposition. It gets the adrenalin flowing, helps rally the troops."
Part of his battle plan involves tracking down a photograph of David Trimble for his election literature. A photographer offers him a different one but McCartney wants this particular picture - "it makes him look like Quasimodo".
He delights on hearing a report that Lady Sylvia and her team have allegedly been "chased" from a house in Helen's Bay by a unionist voter angry at RUC reform. He revels in his own warm reception on the streets.
Shouts of "Hello, Bob!" and "Hiya, Bob!" emanate from shops and cars. "`Bob' - that's the magic word," he says. "It's never `Mr McCartney'. Voters identify with me. I'm no `big-house' unionist. I'm one of the people."