The social perils of conference

Fans of Larry David's deeply wonderful US comedy series Curb Your Enthusiasm will be familiar with the social angst of the "Stop-and-Chat". This is Larry's description of the social obligation to stop walking where you're going and to talk to anyone you happen to bump into whom you know. Larry hates the duty to "Stop-and-Chat".

Sociopathic? Yes, but a straw poll of delegates in Blackpool suggests to me that most of them secretly agree with him when it comes to party conferences. "I hide in my room sometimes," one Tory told me, "because I just can't bear having to have the same ten minute conversation with people I haven't seen since last conference and then promising them all lunch to make them go away. I end up having lunches into the New Year which I only agreed to so I could get where I was going in the first place."

Several of those I questioned admitted that they pretend to be talking on their phones when they see, say, John Redwood, hovering into view, eyes aflame. The key, apparently, is to look absolutely transfixed by your call, as if you have been told that a major crisis has broken out and your imminent return may be required. Whisper gravely and frown without a hint of self-consciousness. A wave or smile to the person you are avoiding could be fatal, a sign of weakness and only delay the Stop-and-Chat until you end the pretend phone call.

For your humble blogger, the Stop-and-Chat is the essence of the job. That's why we hacks come here, after all. Or most of us, anyway.