Many Ulster Unionists would still profess a degree of kinship with British Conservatives: Sinn Féin scoff that they'd never give the Tories a thought.But in what are usually called "leadership circles" in both parties, the long-delayed dispatch of Iain Duncan Smith this week must have brought a few silent whistles.
As the campaign for Michael Howard emerged from the shadows ready to roll, did David Trimble shiver?
Republican and unionist leaderships are entirely unalike, of course, and they do not resemble those of other parties. They both have good reason to keep in mind how their respective organisations ditch leaders, and how sabotage and dissidence develop.
Mr Trimble started his career as a minor malcontent, watching Harry West with disfavour from the back row of the stalls in the little group around Bill Craig. That was a quarter of a century ago, and Mr Trimble is accustomed now to the status of leading Northern Ireland's largest party, however notional that status might be.
Gerry Adams and associates famously saw off Ruairí Ó Brádaigh and his circle before republicans began to profess politics with even semi-sophistication, when control of guns openly dictated internal power struggles. In the collective which gives Mr Adams first place, there is enough historical baggage to discourage all but the weakest jokes about changing the leadership.
Nor is change on the horizon, as far as can be judged from outside, what is still a closed and secretive organisation.
To come this far unscathed has taken luck, ingenuity and shamelessness as well as the flexibility of a disciplined following - and the belated support of three governments.
A week after the collapse of the latest attempt to win back their treasured new political institutions, and despite destruction of arms which would once have been unthinkable for their supporters, the republican leaders face an election with a fair degree of confidence that the collapsed deal will bring them a bigger vote, not a rebuke.
Mr Trimble, by contrast, is in for a rough month of it, and may well be looking at the final curtain soon thereafter.
His party judders about, directionless. A shaky alliance at the best of times, the cycle of emergency meetings which decide nothing has pulped its sense of cohesion. Negotiating a manifesto is fraught with peril. The unreconcilables stomp around their constituencies, Jeffrey Donaldson and David Burnside gearing up to go before the electorate as Ulster Unionists who despise the Ulster Unionist leader.
There have already been rows about the logo and slogan unveiled at the party conference a fortnight ago. Even among those still loyal to Mr Trimble, the ill-judged portrait of a fish supper with the caption "Simply British" brought uncomfortable grimaces.
Loyalty, in any case, is rapidly losing currency because few any longer share opinions on what should or can be done. There is no focus for a fightback. Mr Trimble wins marks for stamina, and there are those who will always believe he fought the best fight possible in impossible circumstances.
From the accounts of party members over the past few years, however, he is not the easiest man to follow.
One month's close associates tend to become the next month's cast-offs.
The absence of anything like a leadership circle has rarely been more obvious than in the recent talks, when Mr Trimble's negotiating team changed from day to day. Backroom boys blinked into daylight, ill-prepared to act as a unit.
The messy outcome of the manoeuvres before the last Ulster Unionist Council meeting cost Sir Reg Empey much of what status he had, including an unchallenged place near the leader at crucial moments. Face-to-face meetings between David Trimble and Gerry Adams may have created some connection where neither liking nor understanding existed.
The one certainty is that after each such meeting, Mr Adams briefed one after another of Sinn Féin's leadership committees, who chewed over every jot and tittle before Gerry met David again. Ulster Unionists and Mr Trimble lack any such permanent machinery to help the leadership reflect, analyse and plan, and show little awareness of knowing what they lack.
As his assembly party gathered in front of a TV screen to watch Gen de Chastelain make his report, the most telling anecdote had Mr Trimble clapping his hands for attention, warning at the very last minute that the report would not be good - but it would all come together in the questions and answers later.
One theory suggests that Mr Trimble can tell the voters he tried, unlike the DUP, and that after the election it will be easier to tie up the deal with Sinn Féin and the governments. But he has never looked more vulnerable.