HE IS nicknamed the "Great Houdini" by the Tory faithful. Such is his tenacity to survive. But this time Labour is determined to capture his seat, and deliver the head of the Scottish Secretary, Michael Forsyth.
The darling of the British right and standard bearer of the Scottish Tories, Mr Forsyth is clearly a worried man. With him defending a notional majority of 236 in Stirling, Labour needs only a swing of 0.28 per cent to oust him. The political wilderness beckons.
Come May 1st the Scottish Tory party could be decimated, for Mr Forsyth is not alone. Three of the party's MPs could lose their seats, including two of his cabinet colleagues, Ian Lang, the President of the Board of Trade, who had the Scottish National Party breathing down his neck, and Malcolm Rifkind, the Foreign Secretary, who could be unseated by a swing of 4.5 per cent to Labour.
Not surprisingly Mr Forsyth is not going down without a battle. His political career has been written off twice before, yet he has survived to fight another campaign. Europe and Scottish devolution are the key policies, while guns are simply not an issue "even in Dunblane", he says.
To show their support, the Prime Minister, Mr John Major, and Lady Thatcher have both walked the streets of Stirling, urging the electorate to make it third time lucky for Mr Forsyth.
On Friday it was the turn of the Chancellor, Ken Clarke, to throw his weight behind Mr Forsyth's campaign. Wandering down Stirling's High Street, the two men forgot their ideological differences over Europe and attempted to present a united front.
"We are going to win. I have stopped looking at the polls, but from our door step canvasses I am sure we are going to win. I will settle for a majority of just one," Mr Forsyth said.
Determined to prove that Britain's economy really is booming, Mr Clarke dragged him and the media entourage into a ladies' dress shop. "So how was your Christmas?" he asked the bewildered shop assistant.
"It was very nice," she replied, before realising the Chancellor was more interested in her business.
Smiling through gritted teeth, Mr Forsyth admired a selection of hats while trying to persuade the manageress to vote for him. "They don't suit you, Michael," chuckled Mr Clarke.
As soon as the two men's backs were turned, both women confessed that they were diehard Labour supporters. "When Tony Blair came here, you couldn't move because of the crowds. He was like a pop star, everyone - wanted to meet him and shake his had. I asked his wife whether we could swap husbands, he is very good looking," admitted Rachel Cochrane, the manageress.
Back on the street, Mr Clarke began to explain to an elderly woman the benefits of voting Tory. "You're confusing me," she told him. "And it's my birthday. Declaring that she must be "one of the many undecided", Mr Clarke bent to give her a birthday kiss, but she moved quickly away. "I'm voting Labour, always have done and always will," she muttered.
Eager for a diversion, Mr Clarke suggested canvassing voters in the nearby pub. Sipping a pint of bitter, Mr Forsyth wandered around the Golden Lion, informing the regulars that he was legally not allowed to buy them a drink. Confronted by a man with a tax problem, Mr Forsyth told him to write him.
"You might not be an MP by the time you get my letter," the man replied.
At the Labour campaign headquarters, they have run out of chairs. Anne McGuire, the candidate, proudly surveys the scene. Supporters are sitting on tables, floors and boxes, licking envelopes and "making sure the message gets out".
Complacency is a dirty word for Mrs McGuire. It allowed Mr Forsyth to win the last election against the odds. This time she is leaving nothing to chance, particularly after Mr Blair's gaffe about the Scottish parliament having the same powers as a parish council prompted a drop in the polls.
"It's like waiting for Christmas. The campaign has been excellent, we have representatives in every village and a great response. A lot of Tories have said they will vote for me because they are embarrassed by the sleaze and feel the party is just too divided. They can't hold their heads up and be proud of their party," she said.
Although the Scottish National Party came a distant third in 1992, Labour activists fear Mr Blair's comments may prevent nationalists from voting tactically. A view which is echoed on Stirling's streets.
"He was arrogant and I didn't like that," said George Prebble, a taxidriver. "But then I hate Forsyth and despise the Tories. I suppose it's a matter of who I dislike the most."
Out on the door steps with Mrs McGuire in Causewayhead, traditional Tory heartland, voters seem pleased to meet her. But it is apparent many believe Mr Forsyth to be a good constituency MP with a "charming wife". And it is this personal factor which may swing it again for the Great Houdini.
Listening intently to Mrs McGuire's speech, Catherine Hammond toyed with her pearl necklace before confessing it would be a "big leap" for her to switch and vote Labour.
"I have thought about it. The Tories have a death wish at the moment. It would be a big leap for me to change, but I have to think what's best for the country and the children. Mr Blair is a personable young man, but then I like Michael and I can trust him. I even like Mr Major, in spite of him not having any guts. It would be hard not to vote Conservative."
Neither political party seemed at ease talking about Dunblane, although Mrs McGuire said that "it was still unfinished business". In the town itself, electioneering has been kept to a minimum out of respect and there are only a handful of posters up.
Few of the locals willingly discussed their political allegiance, and none of them would admit to being Tory supporters for fear of "upsetting the parents".