The contrast between Labour's two candidates in Wicklow is striking, writes Miriam Lord, in Wicklow
Regal Liz, from the north end of the county, and rough 'n' ready Nicky, who holds sway in the south.
Labour's deputy leader, Liz McManus, operates from her base in Bray. Tall and elegant, she wafts and glides through the seaside town, guiding Pat Rabbitte around the streets. It's a dignified canvass, conducted at a sedate pace, as she introduces her leader to the locals and fills him in on their problems.
Councillor Nicky Kelly takes over in Arklow. The style and pace of the tour changes. Nicky is a stocky man, built much closer to the ground than his constituency colleague. His suit is rumpled and the jacket hangs open, displaying a straining shirt that clings precariously to the anchor of his waistband.
He doesn't stand on ceremony - everyone seems to know him. Where cool Liz stands back, Nicky lunges. A classy thoroughbred and a friendly pit pony, but both proven vote winners.
The sitting deputy and her running mate make enough of an odd couple for Labour to predict they can attract the sort of diverse support needed to take two of the five Dáil seats on offer in the next election.
In the first half of his Wicklow tour, Pat Rabbitte visits a high-tech factory and a number of schools. There is an order to the schedule in the satellite towns of Bray and Greystones. With Liz and her election team plotting the way, Pat lets himself be led meekly through the list of appointments.
There is earnest discussion of schools and transport and health.
Once in Arklow, the main topic of discussion is much different. Nicky, who seems to be on first-name terms with everyone in the town, is the main focus of attention. People are polite and they talk to Pat, but the same question comes up again and again and it's addressed to Kelly.
"How's the diet going?" Nicky, it transpires, is in the middle of a sponsored slimathon in aid of the Special Olympics. His battle to shed a few pounds is monitored on a weekly basis by the local media.
"I've lost eight pounds," he tells us. "Sure I'm living on lettuce." A loud snort of laughter escapes the ranks.
First stop is the cramped local Urban District Council office, where the staff work in cramped and unsuitable conditions in a very old building.
Rabbitte and McManus get a guided tour. In the small council chamber, sited directly above the courtroom, Nicky explains how it has outgrown its use.
The facilities are poor. A few years ago, the chairman of the council was a wheelchair-user. Nicky tells how a delegation visiting from abroad saw him being carried up the stairs to the chamber and thought it was a ceremonial tradition.
The visitors meet the town clerk - the man who was in charge of looking after the ballot boxes during the mammoth eight-day count after the last election, when Kelly lost out by 19 votes for the last seat to Mildred Fox.
Independent Mildred is retiring from politics and the fight is on for her share of the vote. Taoiseach Bertie Ahern was in Arklow on Thursday night at a meeting to launch Fianna Fáil's Wicklow campaign. Mildred, and the Fox family came in for lavish praise from the party.
But Labour is eyeing her vote too.
"I was pretty down after the last result and kept wondering if there was more I could have done to win those crucial 19 votes," says Kelly.
As he races along the street, hoovering up passers-by with gusto, it's clear that he doesn't want to be asking himself that same question next time out.
He hauls his leader back and forth across the traffic-choked street, in and out of shops, grabbing people and introducing them to Pat. One of them is Sr Mary Goretti from the local convent, who is happy to stop and chat.
"All the nuns know me," says Nicky.
Then it's into the first of a number of cake shops and cafes. The candidate urges Pat to have something to eat. The Labour leader demurs. Nicky - "living on lettuce" - looks a little crestfallen. "We'll come back later," promises Pat, softening the blow.
Rabbitte is affable on the canvass, but not very assertive. His appetite for flesh-pressing is not of the Bertie Ahern or Enda Kenny school, but he's relaxed and pleasant and spends time listening.
After a visit to slimmer Nicky's local pub and a nearby butcher's shop - assistants joke that they're trying to put him on a diet of lean mince - the afternoon ends with the official opening of his constituency office.
Pat cuts the tape and goes inside to meet the campaign workers. There's a big tray of biscuits and a box of cream buns on the desk.
Nicky comes to say goodbye, cheeks bulging and holding half a pink tea-time wafer. Liz McManus ignores the confectionary.
An odd couple indeed, but an interesting combination in what promises to be one of the most hard-fought constituency contests.