Do you want to know a secret? David Cameron is not just a skilled politician; he is also an exceedingly talented beautician.

He can be presented with a putrid pig of a policy, left alone in a dark room, and, before you know it, he’ll emerge resplendent with a pouting princess on his arm. Holly and Phillip should book him instantly for This Morning, particularly after the miraculous makeover he achieved with Andrew Lansley’s health policy.

While it will take a bit more to dig him out completely from his health hole, the difference with Lansley was profound. Where Lansley was stumbling and stuttering, Cameron charged in on the white horse of clarity, the sword of common sense high above his head, slashing through lines of NHS jargon. Where Lansley blustered and blundered, Cameron was personal and passionate. But the truth is that, for all the difference in feeling, in that particular speech, the policy had barely shifted an inch.

So, how did ‘DC’ pull off this presentational masterstroke? He’s done it time and again now: what’s the secret of his success? Well, without wishing to take away any of the magic – hushed tones – there is a formula to sounding like Dave.

It’s based around Ancient Greek rhetoric. He uses a combination of old rhetorical devices that send powerful, unconscious messages to the audience. That’s how he’s able to whip up the feeling he does. It’s not just what someone says that matters; it’s how they say it.

Look at his speech on the NHS. He starts with asyndeton, a rhetorical device where essential connecting words are deliberately hacked out of a sentence. It gives a jagged effect to the speech, creating a sense of anxiety and urgency.

This is how he opened: “Column inches have been written. Concerns aired. Passions raised.”

The removal of words creates the impression that Dave is so wound up that he’s almost hyperventilating, and too short of breath to get the words out. Combined with the famous ‘rule of three’, it leaves the impression that he’s at the end of his tether, forced to act.

Next, he moves on to anaphora: here, a word or clause is repeated at the beginning of successive sentences or clauses. Anaphora sends the signal that the speaker is emotionally fixated on a particular course of action. Probably the most famous example of this was Churchill’s “We shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds…” etc. Every repetition felt like a fist thumped on the lectern. It worked for Churchill, it worked for Cameron.

He talked about “My determination to deliver a first class, world-class health service. My determination to make sure the poorest people get the best care. My determination to protect the core principle of the NHS…”

Then comes antithesis. In antithesis, two contrasting ideas are presented alongside one another. This is one of the most common tricks in the book for politicians of all stripes and will be instantly familiar to political trainspotters. The balanced, measured rhythm of the structure leaves the impression that the thought is also balanced and measured (even though it may not be).

DC is a big fan of this device, as demonstrated again in that NHS speech: “It’s because I love the NHS so much that I want to change it… If we don’t modernise now, we face a crisis tomorrow… While we are living longer, we are also becoming less healthy…”

Next comes metaphor. Metaphors show that the speaker’s imagination has been sparked, that he/she is actively visualising the issue. Dave used the ‘growing gap’ metaphor to talk about the NHS.

He used it three times: “We have a duty to do all we can to close the gap between the best and the rest”, “In some cases, we’re closing the gap with our European neighbours, but we’ve still got some way to go”, “If we stay as we are, the NHS will [have] a potential funding gap of £20bn”.

The visual idea of a gap is hardly original – some would say it’s one of the ghastly dead metaphors that Orwell warned against – but it does at least reinforce the idea of an NHS that is in the wrong place.

After the metaphor comes hyperbole. Cameron’s brand is evangelical, almost an impersonation of a pulpit preacher. It might seem surprising how endemic religious imagery is in a secular society (most of it passes unnoticed, such as ‘crusades’ or ‘mission statements’) but the truth is that invocations of God still strike very deeply in our souls.

And Dave does a fine Vicar of St Albion: “Ours is a vision of a stronger, more responsive NHS. An NHS with consistent high quality care for all… An NHS which addresses the full needs of each person... An NHS free from political control…”

Finally, Dave signs off with a plain, simple truth – monosyllabic and straight-talking – a pithy encapsulation of his message, which could easily feature in a Sun editorial, or a white van. The unconscious message is, of course that, despite all signs to the contrary, plain-speaking Dave is really still just one of the people: “The NHS needs to change – so that’s what we’ll do.”

Personally, I think it’s the best line in the whole speech.

Simon Lancaster is the managing director of Bespoke Speeches. You can follow him on Twitter @bespokespeeches

Tags: David Cameron, NHS reforms, Simon Lancaster, Speechmaking