Well...at least one British journalist named Fergus Shanahan is anyway:
From the moment she walked on stage in this cavernous bear pit, smart in cream jacket, trim black skirt and black heels, she proved that McCain knew exactly what he was doing when he picked her as running mate.
The first thought was that here was America’s youthful Maggie Thatcher, minus the swinging handbag. Hair piled into a slight beehive — more Sarah White House than Amy Winehouse — she blinked and smiled behind her geeky specs as the vast crowd went ballistic.
She is popular with voters for the very reason America’s snooty political establishment despises her: She isn’t one of the Washington gang.
She’s a mum of five from icy Alaska with a sledge-load of problems behind her own front door that workaday Americans can relate to.
A child with special needs. A daughter of 17 pregnant. A constant juggle between family and career. Compared to the career politicians dominating both parties here she seemed fresh, natural — one of us and not one of them.
She revelled in being an outsider.
Showing steel beneath her magnolia jacket, she slaughtered Obama’s lack of experience, his vanity, his emptiness beneath the windy waffle. It was the most powerful demolition of the Democrat hero I have heard in two weeks on the US election trail.
The wagons have been drawn up and the Republicans are ready for battle.
Click over to read the whole thing. With reporters like these, maybe there's "hope" for the Continent after all.