GEORGE Galloway puffs on his Havana cigar and quips: ''Belgian television want to interview me on Friday, so they obviously think they will be seeing more of me.''

The would-be London MEP exudes his usual rebel's charm, although the mischievous glint is hidden behind the designer shades. He believes his anti-war platform is a surefire

winner. ''I would be very surprised if I don't get in. I need to get 100,000 votes. There are 500,000 Muslim voters in London and among Muslims our support is running very high.

''Last night, we had the biggest election meeting yet at a mosque in Newham, in the east end. There were 700 people in the hall and another 700 outside in the playground. Things are looking good.''

Hours before the polls close, Gorgeous George is on the stump, decrying ''killer Blair'' and ''butcher Bush'' from atop a slightly ageing open-top bus.

Respect, the Scots MP's new vehicle since being ejected by New Labour, is based in a third-floor office off Edgware Road - no coincidence, it being in the middle of London's Arab quarter. There are no flags, no bunting, only a few staff with boxes of manifestos and leaflets piled in corners, and ''Bliar Bliar'' posters on the walls.

An unassuming spot from where to start a revolution. ''We're the cheap and cheerful party,'' boasted one Galloway aide. He later admitted Respect had to move offices after the roof fell in. A less good omen.

The star of the show - GG - arrives late for the tour, but no-one minds. The official party title is Respect: The Unity Coalition (George Galloway). The Glasgow Kelvin MP admits it could look as though Respect is a one-man band but, at just five months old, the party needs as much help as it can get and George is its most recognisable face.

I suggest that the back-bencher is the Robert Kilroy-Silk of Respect. Mr Galloway frowns and insists: ''The only similarity is that we both were once in the Labour party.'' Better move on to the Georgemobile.

The party workers are relieved that Aretha Franklin's Respect has been temporarily supplanted by the Staple Sisters' Respect Yourself. George grabs the microphone and begins his political spiel: ''No more Bush. No more Blair. No more war everywhere. Let's have a little respect.''

As the bus reaches Oxford Street, some shoppers and tourists are bemused. A few motorists honk their approval.

Out towards Regent's Park, GG tries to rally office workers: ''Less war, more sunbathing,'' he blurts. The bonhomie has little effect.

The volume rises as the bus passes Downing Street. ''Liar Blair'' rolls off George's tongue with particular venom outside the security gates of No 10.

Passing the visitors outside parliament, he shouts: ''I wouldn't bother queuing up there. They're all liars.'' Hold on, but you're still an MP, George, remember.

Down Victoria Street, some Italian tourists join the bus for a free trip round the capital's attractions. ''It happens all the time,'' admits one party worker. Another points out that a rather exuberant ''transsexual'' has hopped on uninvited and grabbed a placard.

He or she waves at passers-by, singing: ''Yoohoo. Hello darlings. Respect.'' The latest recruit to the Galloway cause later calls out: ''Respect Tony Blair. Respect the Tories.'' Somehow I suspect he or she hasn't quite got the hang of this Respect thing.

In Holland Park, an elderly woman frowns and puts her fingers in her ears. ''Hello, Lady Fraser,'' says George. It is the eminent biographer, Lady Antonia Fraser, wife of the anti-war playwright Harold Pinter, a Respect supporter. ''Keep the noise down,'' she mouths.

Despite thumbs-up and waves of support for the anti-war slogans, not everyone appeared to savour George's message. As the bus sped by St Pancras station, an old cyclist stopped and gave a two-finger salute with both hands.

And at Notting Hill Gate, one oriental-looking chap ferociously bellowed: ''F*** off, Galloway.'' Some people have no respect.