The last night of Conference drinking has the great feeling of desperation in the air. People desperate to enjoy the last night, to impress that person they came to network with or even to "meet that special someone". Whatever reason they were there it seemed every delegate had finally got their pass and they were going to make the most of the last moonlit evening in Bournemouth.
Conservative Way Forward held the sit down dinner of the night where Lord Ashcroft was the keynote speaker. Also in attendance of note were Angela Watkinson MP, Andrew Rosindell MP, Greg Hands MP , many of the new Conservative Future team, star blogger Iain Dale and A-List candidate Conor Burns. The sold out dinner was rather enjoyable. Lord Ashcroft gave, with his usual clear cut honesty, a great walk through of the research and statistic he's done over the last two years. Iain Dale was clearly giving the numbers deep contemplation as he seemed to have his eyes shut during most of the speech.
From there it was back to the Highcliffe. Everyone was desperate to get into the BBC reception. By 11pm there was actually a queue to get in which is rather unusual for an invitation only event. However once in there, there was queu to get out. John Culshaw's entertainment earlier had been fantastic as always but later on the room had become a veritable turkish sauna, filled with far more diary columnists than diary stories. Maybe it was the heat but the wine had started to taste like vinegar and the fish canapes looked particularly unappetising.
So back into the main crush of the bar. Every nook and cranny of the ground floor of the Highcliffe was filled with giggling Conservatives. Yummy Jeremy Hunt and dashing Mark Field looked particularly sweet as they ran around the hotel laughing like a pair of schoolboys. Liam Fox and his lovely wife seemed to be keeping people very entertained on the terrace where many had escaped to get away from the stifling heat of outside to the freezing ice cold sea air. Everywhere you looked were women wrapped in oversize suit jackets that chivalrous gentleman had leant them. Where they found these chivalrous gentleman I'm not entirely sure since everywhere I looked where chaps who seemed to find it acceptable to shove us ladies out of the way while they barged their way to the front of the bar queue.
Upstairs a lit window filled with people belied the existence of a private booze up. Various people had idea's on what was going on in there. Orgies, late night speech writing sessions and journalists using digital listening devices to spy on us were all given as suggestions to the event going on in there. More likely it was a drinking session. At one point someone told me the room number was 105 - so if the resident of Room 105 wishes to divulge the real purpose of the party I'd love to know.
However all good things must come to an end. The Highcliffe staff, very unreasonably actually expected people to leave at some point. However as all week people managed to find alternative watering holes to make sure they didn't have to stop drinking. Verdict of the week is that the St. Michael's Hotel with their 24 hour bar and "interesting" clientele - including a resident stripper - was the place to be.
And so to today. The sensible had booked their rooms for another night so they could lie in past checkout time - the unlucky had to drag themselves out in a dishevelled state at 10:30am and stagger down the hill to the BIC. So remember - if you saw a young person (or some of the older delegates) looking a little underwhelmed in Cameron's closing speech remember it's not the speech - it's the hangover.
