Climbing The Greasy Pole
Conference Snorker Watch
By and large, however, talking one's way into a reception is the way to go, as a bottle of beer will set you back four quid within the ring of steel. There has been some quality blagging this year, including:
- a colleague of Westmonster's trying to persuade security at the Mirror party that the five of us who were trying to get in on two tickets were involved in some sort of polygamous marriage. Unbelievably, they let us in;
- another comrade at the same party letting in reprobate MPs through the fire exit;
- trying to look interested in a public health fringe meeting (free booze) whilst stuffing our cheeks with canapes like hamsters storing food for a long winter;
- legging it out of the Unite union's exclusive invite-only event (yeah, work that one out, "the brothers" my arse) as Special Branch arrived in advance of Brown's surprise address. Westmonster had no particular desire to spend a night in the slammer.
Well, Conference is over but there a snagger for the road may well be in order...
