Credit where credit is due. You’d have thought the Tory party conference would be a downbeat affair. A death spiral of despair. Instead, it’s as if everyone is out of their heads on acid. Blissed out in an alternative reality. Slugging back vast quantities of Kool Aid in an everlasting kiss.
This being the Conservatives, you can never rule out the possibility that there are a number of delegates who still have no idea they suffered a landslide defeat in the July election. Or even that the election actually took place. The same people who haven’t yet been told that Margaret Thatcher is not immortal. There’s a surprising number of them.
Most, though, are only too happy to embrace the new world order. It’s as if they needed a break from the stress of government. It had all become a bit too serious. Now they are in opposition they are free to say what they actually think. Best of all, the delegates now feel as if they have a sacred purpose. For too long they have been mere irritations. Conference fodder. But now their elected politicians are pretending to like them. To pay attention to them.
Weirdly, they even think that the whole country is tuned into them. Their wishes and desires. That their role in choosing the next Tory leader is the focus of everyone’s attention. Forget war in Lebanon, all anyone really cares about in Birmingham is who is going to win the leadership election. No one has had the heart to tell them that the Tory endgame is an irrelevance to almost everyone.
So there is a buzz throughout the conference compound. An excitement. A sense of self-importance. Various faces who used to be cabinet ministers before July, and are now not even in parliament, stand around hoping to be noticed. Hitching their wagons in the hope of preferment. Grant Shapps is hard to avoid. Telling the media that he is Robert Jenrick’s campaign manager. Which will come as news to James Cleverly. Grant announced himself Team Jimmy Dimly weeks ago. But then everything that the Shappster does is always only skin deep.
All four teams move through the complex in rotation. Fixed grins. Professing interest in people they don’t know. Wherever Tom Tugendhat goes he is surrounded by fresh faced Sandhurst cadets, whooping and cheering enthusiastically every time their hero opens his mouth. “Did you know I was in the army?” says Tom. Er, yes we did. You only remind us 50 times a day. “I’ll have to kill you if I tell you about my special ops,” he adds. Please, please do. Death would be preferable to this seventh circle of hell.
Kemi is just … Kemi. KemiKaze. The most unpredictable of the four because even she has no idea what she’s going to say before she says it. And not much idea of what she’s said after she’s said it. Right now she is furious with journalists for reporting her comments on maternity pay accurately.
Mostly, she’s furious with herself for not being able to control her mouth. Or her hands. She’s also managed to put out a policy document in which the left side of a meaningless triangle is labelled right. Left, right … Who cares? KemiKaze. The politician scheduled to self-destruct in 30 seconds.
As for Robert Jenrick, he was first up in the main hall for an hour-long wannabe leader’s interview. There aren’t many people who become easier and easier to dislike the more you get to know them, but somehow Honest Bob manages it. That must be why he’s the bookies’ favourite. Never underestimate the Tories’ masochistic need to be abused. They are never happier than when in a dysfunctional relationship with their leader. Think Boris Johnson.
It’s not even as if Honest Bob is that bright. Rather, he is a man of no principle. Happy to recite any prejudice regardless of personal belief just for a few extra votes. A torrent of pre-prepared, contradictory soundbites. “I don’t like the term ‘the centre ground’,” he announced grandly, before declaring that it was his mission to find it. Weirdly, no one seemed to notice the contradiction. As if the entire audience had been hypnotised.
He became bolder and bolder. His decision to resign as immigration minister and start plotting his leadership campaign was a sign of just how loyal he was to the party. He had been guided by a higher spirit. Ozempic Bob was the noblest Roman of them all. He was the ultimate Clockwork Tory – just wind him up and he goes round in circles. Like so many in Birmingham, he seems to believe that it’s only a matter of time before Labour implodes and the Tories can resume their natural role in government. The Lib Dems are just aberrations. He doesn’t appear to have learned anything.
“I’ve defended statues,” he said proudly. He even had a personal endorsement from Michelangelo’s David. And he would reverse everything that Labour had done and revert to everything the Tories had done that had lost them the last election. His highlight was to tell the audience that one sixth of them would be dead by the time of the next election. Such a charmer. Honest Bob is going to be a sketch writer’s dream if he wins the contest.
There again, so will Jimmy Dimly. The odds on him have been shortening all week. Mainly because for once he hasn’t been saying anything seriously stupid. There again, he hasn’t been saying anything very clever, either. Mostly he’s gone for silence, which has been paying off as it allows people to project their own fantasies on him. So his turn on the main stage was his chance to shine, at least until he opened his mouth.
Jimmy D is very much a bloke’s bloke. If you like a nice line in date rape gags then Cleverly is your man. You’d be surprised at how much enthusiasm there is for that sort of thing. He likes to think he gets things done. Jimmy, Jimmy. Just look at your record. That batshit thing you knew was batshit that you did regardless. “I’m an open book,” he said. True. He is the chancer’s chancer. Someone promoted well above his capabilities.
“I don’t like to boast about how I stood up to tyrants,” he said, boasting about how he stood up to tyrants. Self-awareness is not one of his talents. But the audience seemed to love him. Mainly because he wasn’t Honest Bob. And because the tedium of four hour-long interviews stretched over two days was finally over. But just because they liked him, it doesn’t mean they will vote for him. Sooner or later, Jimmy D will get his life back. Hopefully, we all will.
