Our scribe is at a packed-out PopCon event on day two of the Conservative Conference
It was actually, genuinely, warm in Manchester. Blue skies, the old currant bun, everything. Tory Conference normally attracts monsoon conditions. Swift’s spirits, restored after a Sunday of positive vibes, lifted still further. The prospect of a stimulating PopCon event helped.
Inside the Think Tent, as the faithful gathered to discuss our chosen text - The Future of the Right - warm turned to hot. This organisation is not called Popular Conservatism for nothing, because the room was crammed with eager attendees. All seats were quickly taken, people were standing three deep at the back, and still in they came. No-one actually fainted, Victorian-style (as far as Swift knows), but if they had, the press of bodies would simply have keep them upright.
Our genial chairman was, as ever, Mark Littlewood.The big brains he had convened were Lord (David) Frost, Annabel Denham, Wendy Morton MP and Iain Dale.
First to Lord F. As PG Wodehouse once observed, it is easy to tell the difference between a Scotsman with a grievance and a ray of sunshine. His Lordship was definitely more Scot than sun, whatever the weather might indicate. Channeling his inner Savonarola, he told the audience that any comfort derived from the upbeat Conference was a snare and a delusion. Things were really bad. The party was on the edge of ceasing to exist. People looked suitably chastened.
None of his colleagues, to be fair, were exactly sunny themselves, although it would be accurate to say they gleaned some signs of hope here and there. For Ms Denham it was the undoubted fact that politics were very volatile, and the rather chilly comfort that she believed polling numbers could not get any worse, although the rest of the panel did not look altogether convinced by her thesis.
Wendy Morton, who held on to her seat (Aldridge-Brownhills) as others were losing theirs, recommended lots and lots of hard work, rather like Boxer the carthorse in Orwell’s Animal Farm, who believed all problems could be solved by more graft. He ended up, Swift’s readers may recall, being transported to the knacker’s yard. Let us hope neither the party nor its remaining MPs suffer such a fate.
Iain Dale played the centrist dad role. Not bounding with optimism, but tossing around the phrase ‘broad church’ once or twice, perhaps in response to Frost’s call for a purge of the softies (he was of course asked for specific names, but if he had a little list it was not for sharing). Dale was pleased that policies were now emerging from the ponderous review process, but these had to be matched with greater engagement. Amen to that.
Reform (the party not the concept) was never mentioned. Only kidding, guys. Reform was mentioned quite a lot. Like Banquo’s ghost, Nigel Farage’ spectral form was walking amongst us. Should he be embraced, ignored, or surrendered to? Quite rightly no-one was betting the house on a coalition (dread word!) just yet, although the obvious contrast between the appeal of a popular front of the right, versus five more years of Labour incompetence and misery escaped no-one. We shall see. Farage has no incentive to get into bed with Kemi right now, and she cannot be seen to entertain such a tryst.
PopCon’s leader mournfully noted the absence of wine at fringe events in comparison with the glory days. But plenty of whining, shot back Dale. Yet overall, this was a realistic and constructive event at a pretty cheery conference - sorry David - and as Swift emerged into a welcome breeze and yet more sunshine, he noticed another reason to be happy. It was quiet. That disruptive, self-righteous, idiot Steve Bray (the blue top hat Euro-fanatic who plays bad music at maximum volumes to try to drown out sensible conversation) has not been sighted in Manchester so far. Sunshine and silence. The Lord really must be a Tory.