Watford witnesses the outbreak of a very civil war

Somewhere in Britain there had to be a place where even in 2015 elections were still being conducted properly, a Nirvana where the electorate was engaged, the candidates available and the discussions civil.

Probably somewhere way north of Watford, London's much-derided northern appendage. Not exactly. It turned out to be Watford itself.

Apart from anything else, this is a grand contest. Five years ago, the former property developer Richard Harrington snatched the seat for the Conservatives by 1428 votes, holding off the Liberal Democrats who relegated the sitting Labour MP into third, another 3000 behind.

Now Mr Harrington is trying to fend off challenges from a reinvigorated Labour party with a new candidate, Matt Turmaine, and the Lib Dems who, things being as they are, might be expected to collapse. Except that they have no ordinary candidate. Her name is Dorothy Thornhill, elected mayor of Watford for the past 13 years, the kind of force of nature who hardly exists in the drab world of British local government. "On the same street the other week I was told I was the saviour of Watford, and another voter said I'd ruined the place," she told me gleefully. "On the same street!"

And they are contending in a manner that may not be matched anywhere else. Many constituencies stage a hustings (aka debate) or two. Watford's schedule is already in double figures, with more to come. The candidates are like an ageing rock band, touring the schools and church halls, playing old favourites and occasionally squabbling. But the squabbles are muted: Mr Turmaine is also on the council; they know each other well and get on; none of them are ideologues; and they all came to the game late enough in life to understand what politicians can do, and what they can't.

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Watford is notoriously average, if a bit short on extreme poverty. Market researchers love it: there's a studio in town devoted to focus groups: "There are always people coming up to you on the High Street with clipboards," Mr Harrington says.

But there is something about some of these nothingy-looking towns round London that breeds a quiet, defensive team spirit. I have seen it in Bedford and Milton Keynes too. And thus on Thursday night, the most traditional of the hustings, organised by Christians Across Watford, drew more than 200 into a Baptist Church with rock-hard pews to spend two hours listening to five candidates (Ukip and Green were polite too) not arguing with each other all that much.

They even applauded each other's opening statements, though they got bored with that soon enough. And finally Mr Turmaine dismissed the Tory sign-off by saying: "I'm in a church so I'll moderate my language. That's bobbins."

But that was as heated as it got. Mr Harrington told a sixth-former: "I've voted for all three major parties" and suggested he might do the same before settling into his opinions.

However, he is keen for current voters not to take that advice too literally because, having made his pile, he is rather enjoying this job. "It's between me and Richard," pronounced Madam Mayor. "The birds on the trees know that. Matt's very affable but he hasn't got the same recognition."

That is not everyone's perception. Ms Thornhill is a woman you would back to survive a tempest, but the wind in Lib Dem faces is near hurricane-force. The men think it's between them. Watford is HQ of the National Lottery company, Camelot. For once they may offer the safest bet.

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