THERE aren't many politicians who could pack out the Grand Theatre like Tony Benn did last week -- unless a set of stocks and some rotten fruit were involved.

Accompanied by a flask of tea and his familiar pipe, Britain's most famous campaigner for socialism filled the Grand's stage without ever leaving his comfy seat.

He may be approaching 80, but the former cabinet minister and idol of the hard left still packs a punch.

His 'show' is, in fact, a lively public meeting, with a speech on the issues of the day followed by a stimulating question and answer session.

It's hard to picture the genial, witty, charming man who captivated the audience as the same character demonised by the tabloids back in the 1980s.

He has an informed and well-argued view on everything, from Concorde ('a beautiful plane -- and a tribute to the engineers') to the war on Iraq ('armed robbery') through to Rupert Murdoch ('interested only in backing winners').

And, based on his experience of visiting Las Vegas, Benn is dubious about Blackpool's proposed casino future: "If I had a vote I would vote against it."

He touched on his son Hilary's recent elevation to the cabinet and the tough tasks faced by ministers, but didn't spare his criticism for the current administration and, in particular, its relationship with George Bush's White House.

Big business, the media and established religion were also put under the spotlight in a highly informative couple of hours. Benn, an avid diarist, would have had no shortage of material for the entry he proposed to make on returning to London at 3am the following morning.

The audience was, on the whole, adoring (a minority insisted on nodding or mumbling their agreement to everything the speaker said) though there was one full and frank exchange of views with a questioner over selective schools.

Still, this is one politician who has always used his razor sharp oratory, rather than his left hook, to deal with dissenters.

He tells of one election meeting in Bristol on a steaming summer evening where one particular heckler was giving him a hard time. However, after issuing his riposte, one of Benn's campaigners politely pointed out that the man was merely asking if the windows of the packed schoolroom could be opened. He now wears hearing aids.

It isn't the only time Benn has been wrong. He admits to 'many mistakes' but is proud that through it all he has been what he calls a 'signpost' politician: "If you come back in 20 years it will still be pointing the same way" while today's generation of Westminster 'weathervanes' insist on fretting over every focus group before opening their mouths."

Of course, as with any debate on politics, discussion turned to the supposed apathy of today's youth.

Benn is unsympathetic to those who take the view that the young are disengaged from politics, using the London anti-war marches as an example. He admits, however, that many have a downer on today's politicians.

And it left this observer pondering -- would the young be as switched off if the new generation of politicians, of all persuasions, were as succinct, intelligent, honest and entertaining as Tony Benn? I doubt it.