A fresh start and wishful drinking
JOINING the brothers and sisters at Labour’s policy bash, I’m struck by the party’s slogan.
“A Fresh Start With Labour” is the rallying cry emblazoned on conference publicity, echoing the leader’s welcome to delegates.
Start afresh with Keir Starmer, or get into a New Era with Tory premier Liz Truss. That’s the choice before the electorate.
At least it’s not New Labour. Been there, done that, old hat.
Liverpool is abuzz with events. The conference fringe outdoes anything Edinburgh can offer, from foodbanks to football, Namibia to Ukraine. I stopped counting at one hundred venues for today alone.
You can’t say the party has stopped thinking, but it does so at the expense of socialising. I look forward to reacquainting myself with the Baltic Fleet pub, across a perilous road from conference.
It’s been done up, and is now Grade II listed, like many of its customers (old joke, but true this week). Many’s the hour I’ve toiled here when I should have been listening to debates.
Wishful drinking, instead of wishful thinking, I suppose.
Conference is billed as the supreme policy-making body.
Sphericals. The leader does what he likes and the rank and file just have to suck it up. Or leave, as tens of thousands have reportedly done since the departure of the prophet Jeremy. I wonder if he’s here?
The key issue facing delegates wasn’t the war in Ukraine or the cost of living crisis but “Would they sing the National Anthem?”
Traditionally, they’ve always belted out The Red Flag. But God Save the King? That’s for the Tories, surely.
In a classic Labour fudge, they’re doing both, to prove they’re patriots as well as socialists.
A Fresh Start, of sorts.