Monday
Finally back home after two weeks of living out of a suitcase in hotel rooms in Manchester and Liverpool. I find the party conference season exhausting. God knows how those who drink and spend their evenings going from reception to reception cope. I much prefer to spend my downtime having a meal out with colleagues. The Labour conference was understandably overshadowed by the atrocities in Israel and Gaza but Keir Starmer and Rachel Reeves were well received both in the main hall and by the media in general. Everyone was very careful not to take things for granted – calling Starmer “the next prime minister” was banned – but it did feel as if we were watching a government in waiting. The Conservative conference meanwhile was glorious chaos. Almost as much of a shitshow as the previous year when Liz Truss was prime minister. The main auditorium had to be moved to a side room as they couldn’t be sure of getting the numbers. On the first afternoon there were barely 200 in the hall for the opening speeches from cabinet ministers. And those that did go wondered why they had bothered. Most of the action was taking place on the fringes where dozens of Tories were launching their leadership bids for when Rishi Sunak loses the election. The biggest queue was for Truss, who seemed to think that what she had got wrong was to not cut taxes further. Then we had Suella Braverman talking about a “hurricane” of refugees. The Conservatives seem to be on a death march to the far right. It was also touch and go whether I would be allowed into Sunak’s speech, despite the convention that sketchwriters are always admitted. The Tory press office initially insisted the Guardian could only have one space, which was reserved for political editor, Pippa Crerar. And no I couldn’t use her ticket. I was not welcome. It was only after I made a fuss on Twitter – now known as X – that I was allowed in. And yes, there were plenty of seats. O brave new world.
