Brothers and sisters who mentioned the name of Comrade Jeremy found themselves clapped hard, even interrupted by football crowd-style chants of the leader’s name
What ho from Brighton, or more properly ‘greetings from the central commissariat of Corbynism’. As Labour gathered for its Sunday devotions (not church, alas, but conference), a high tide lapped under the town’s lovely pier.
In the conference hall it certainly felt like high tide for the Bennite Left. Brothers and sisters who mentioned the name of Comrade Jeremy found themselves clapped hard, even interrupted by football crowd-style chants of the leader’s name. The old boy himself revelled in this, sticking out his front tooth.
Delegates who made more Blairish contributions found that their ideas did not ignite much enthusiasm. A little chap who said London’s mayor, Sadiq Khan, should be given a speaking slot was even booed.
But speakers who railed against the wickedness of public-spending constraints, or the ‘opportunism’ of politicians who supported controlled immigration, were met with cheers and furious applause.
One of the most popular speakers was Lauren, a 16-year-old schoolgirl with blue hair (she was wearing a collar and blue tie, too – though most certainly was not a Tory). I am not sure I can accurately report the philosophical thrust of Lauren’s speech, for that was a little elusive, but she did make a forceful claim that ‘a good half’ of children in Britain have mental health problems.
Lauren, a veritable Jimmy Osmond, squeaked about schools being ‘a battlefield where they can’t afford pens and paper’.
The delegates loved this – they were particularly pleased when she said the word ‘bollocks’ – and you can see why. It was not only feisty but also ludicrously exaggerated, a mainline hit of their favourite narcotic: victimhood.
Grenfell Tower kept on being mentioned, with the evil squires of Kensington and Chelsea supposedly to blame for that awful fire. Diane Abbott made a particularly vitriolic speech, massaging menace into an odd, trembly performance. Miss Abbott said her mother, who had come to Britain as an immigrant, would have been astonished to think her daughter was now shadow home secretary. So are plenty of the rest of us, Diane.
The small group of anti-Brexit campaigners waving pro EU flags, accused those who led the Leave campaign of being ‘fascists’
Outside, Left-wing protesters marched with banners calling for ‘Communism, not Corbynism’ and saying ‘Abolish the Police’ (their march was guarded by, er, some members of the local constabulary). Inside the hall, the chairman of the session, picking floor speakers, uttered the words: ‘I’ll take the gentleman waving the red flag.’
Leader Corbyn had earlier vouchsafed a TV interview to Andrew Marr in which he successfully dodged giving any clearer line on Labour’s Brexit policy. An attempt to have Brexit debated in an emergency motion came to nothing. Mr Corbyn and his lieutenants may feel that vagueness on Brexit is their best option. He could not even tell Marr if he had ever ridden in one of those Uber minicabs that Mayor Khan wishes to liquidate.
A delegate called Vince Maple, who apologised for his name sounding like Vince Cable, said, twice, that Ukip were ‘on their dying deathbed’. Another speaker, Gail Hudson, opened with a cooey-style ‘helloooo!’ and waved both hands.
Jeremy Corbyn (pictured on the stage at Labour conference today) is fighting to contain divisions on Brexit
The GMB’s Mike Payne was indignant about ‘the ruling class’ without perhaps quite grasping that his party is the one keen to help our Brussels overlords and their multinational/lawyer friends.
‘We need parents to address gender roles!’ thundered one woman. Another activist described Donald Trump as a ‘white supremacist’. Orange, surely.
Ian Lavery MP, token Northerner in this Islingtonian republic, made a stonking speech about ‘how we made politics interesting again’. He has a point, but it will be negated if Labour helps the Peter Mandelsons and George Osbornes to stymie Brexit.
The day ended with the party executive’s chief scrutineer, Dhanisha Patel, announcing votes on emergency motions. In the Blair days, this job was done by the marvellously robotic Margaret Wheeler. Sister Patel turned out to be of more human clay, struggling to read the words before her. But the end result was much the same: ruthless control by a leader revered as a demigod.
Many of the demonstrators in Brighton today were waving EU flags and carrying placards