Spectator's Notebook
ADULL Labour Party conference is an im- possibility: the shifts by which the leader- ship asserts and balances itself on top of the furious civil war that rages all the time through- out the confederacy are a guarantee of good copy. As for the Liberals, their engaging gift of auto-intoxication cannot fail to produce a fizzy atmosphere at their annual assembly. At both, political correspondents are sure of a chance to exercise their talents as dramatic critics. Until last year the hangers and (loggers and other assorted antiques performing against the general yea-saying were always good for a laugh at Tory conferences. But times have changed, and, skilfully, the Conservative Party with them. Llandudno last week saw the fossils and fogies frozen out for good. From the butch reviewer's point of view the Tory conference was dull and a dead loss. It was altogether too heavily serious for bright sparks. Even the Thursday morning debate on the Common Mar- ket was conducted on both sides with a high and sober earnestness which hardly ever broke down into good copy. The solitary Empire Loyalist girl who tried to hold up Rab seemed to be overcome by the solemnity of the occa- sion: she said her little piece diffidently and left without a murmur. 'I can't get over it,' my neigh- bour kept muttering. This was a seasoned obser- ver of many conferences. 'If somebody had told me three months ago, even three weeks ago, it would be like this, I'd have said he was mad.' Also, he was missing that odour of blood which, had so excitingly permeated the arena 3/ Brighton.
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