At conference where the stench of decay is overpowering, the shadow chancellor’s speech was an act of desperation
T
he unbearable lightness of the Tory party conference. A place where nothing ever happens. Where dreams come to die. Where the only joy to be found is in the possibility of forgetting. Oblivion is the hottest ticket on offer. Above all else, a microverse of infinite sadness and suffering.
The banners around the conference compound carry the catchy slogan “Stronger economy. Stronger borders”. They should say “Abandon hope, all ye who enter here”. A colleague asked the guard whether this was the media entrance. He replied: “It’s anyone’s. It’s so quiet in there. I’ve been to busier dinner parties.” You can’t help feeling that the security is there to stop people leaving, rather than keeping the unwanted out.
Inside the complex there is almost nothing going on. The exhibitors’ hall a ghost town. All the Tories have to offer is some Winston Churchill and Margaret Thatcher tat. It’s like entering a time warp. Ask if there’s any Kemi Badenoch merchandise and you get a shrug of the head. “Nah, mate. We’ve left that back at the warehouse. This is the only stuff that sells.”
