So, arrived in Liverpool for Labour Party conference. Writing this in a somewhat, er, basic hotel in Bank Hall, one of the perhaps slightly less beautiful parts of the city (no, it’s not the area in the photo). Which, for the record, I have booked, and to which I have travelled some distance at my own expense. This, dear reader, is the glamorous, jet-set life of the political blogger.
Let’s be honest, party conference attendance is not exactly a majority interest, is it? Looking around me, I get to thinking what, perhaps, normal men of my age might be doing this Saturday night.
Come on: strange I may be, but I defy you to look me in the eye and say that I do not love my party.
You love your party. What is Security like? Don't over egg Saturday nights for middle aged men quote from my ex-fiancee "You seem to think I have a far more lurid life than I actually have". How will you recoup the cost of jet setting? Wanna buy a ticket stub from Tehran airport?
Yes, not quite sure what the Special Branch boys would make of someone coming from Tehran…