What went on at the 30th Anniversary Dinner I hosted in Margaret’s honour remains at the 30th Anniversary Dinner I hosted in Margaret’s honour. But, to give you a soupçon, I can reveal that Elton John’s reworking of his classic “Candle in the Wind” reduced many grown men, and Jeremy Clarkson, to tears. Even Margaret smiled wanly as the great singer-songwriter sang, “Loneliness was tough/The toughest role you ever played/Westminster created a superstar/And pain was the price you paid.” It was, in every sense, a night to remember.
And a welcome escape from the regiment of untalented women who are seeking to become Tory MPs for seats which our unstinting efforts have made safe even for candidates as lacking in credentials as they are. Have you ever met Kirstie Allsopp? There is no earthly reason why you should have, but you may have seen her on one of those ghastly property programmes (she is, to be gallant, the bouncy one). Anyway, Allsopp is a limited conversationalist who flounders when discussing anything other than property – not a subject that plays especially well on the doorstep, at present. Despite this, so few are the potential female candidates that there was talk of parachuting our “unofficial housing adviser” into a Home Counties berth. Arranging a dinner à deux between Francis Maude and Allsopp scotched that. But there is no limit to her perseverance and she will, I fear, be back.
Meanwhile, our “friends in the press” campaign notched up another useful scalp last weekend. The strategy has long been to truffle out those who were most committed to New Labour on the grounds that they would be most likely to believe in pretty much anything if it advanced their career. When a journalist who has written that she “loathed her [Margaret] with a passion we [she and her army] will never muster again” writes about “the genius of Cameron” and that “to be Tory is cool” and “at least they [the Tories] smell new”, then that is one in the bank for GD. The Telegraph crowd can harrumph all they like, but it is the sinners and converts who make the best role models. No Blairite is going to say he’s voting for Dave because of something Simon Heffer wrote, but they might find it useful if they can quote an old lefty whom they once all pretended to admire.
Of course, we do not let any old idiot in. To be one of the chosen, there are various hoops that must be jumped through, among the most arduous being an exclusive interview with Michael Gove or Philip Hammond. If the journalist not only survives the evening but can turn it into prose that a newspaper will print, then they are welcome aboard the Dave campaign bus – spaces on which, I can happily report, are now limited. Although, don’t worry, Polly, we will make room for you.
Perhaps you would like to book a seat next to Tracey, who has been roped in to provide some much-needed glamour. Emin was the undoubted star of an above-average Tory arts dinner recently and seems up for a bit of fun – even going so far as to ask if I might be able to set up a dinner with little George.
I politely demurred but, if circumstances change, it might be in the party’s interests to arrange a soirée.
