Wednesday 18th September

And so boring.  These days anyway.  I can remember conferences of old, when real rows occurred, ex-leaders walking off the platform, there was real passion, blood on the Winter Gardens floor.  But now they are just one long, and boring, advert for each party.  The political commentators attempt to make slightly different emphasis into major splits, but even Vince Cable eventually falls into line and votes the right way.  And all this voting is complete nonsense.  The party leadership simply does what it wants to, despite, often in defiance of, and sometimes as some sort of victory over, conference itself.

Really these seaside gatherings are an anachronism.  With e-mail and video conferencing there is no need for them, however for the delegates it is a chance to do a bit of star-gazing rather than navel-gazing.  For once they are allowed up close to the big boys, well not too close of course.

Then there are the big TV interviews, Andrew Marr, Newsnight, all the news channels big guns, before the leader’s speeches; where some sort of clapometer is even employed, stupidly measuring the length of the standing ovation.  And these leaders speeches are awful, written now by a team of writers, and pored over endlessly.  Not to see how good they are, but in case there is any cock-up, any possible misinterpretation.

And the general public won’t give a fuck.  They mostly despise the lot of them; most will vote the same way they always do, and some are so fickle they will be swayed by a good TV performance debate.  Hardly anyone actually cares about the policies, the ideas, the direction the parties are taking.  And yet so much time, so much energy goes into presenting a perfect party conference.  For what?