Text settings

When David Cameron turned up to The Spectator’s party last night, I thought it only decent to ply him with a glass of fizz. After all, a magazine whose motto is “champagne for the brain” can hardly begrudge champagne for the guests. And what’s the harm, I thought – there were no photographers at the party. Right? Wrong. The picture is now on the front page of the Evening Standard – with yours truly beside Cameron having just plonked it in his hand a few seconds earlier. I promise, it wasn’t a set-up: we thought we’d cleared the place of photographers. We heard that someone  a photo and my colleague Phoebe Vela (you should have seen her in action) had believed she had tracked down the culprit and had him delete the offending picture under ECHR Right To Drink Bubbly in Private. Perhaps we succeeded: The Standard picture looks like an iPhone job to me. So I feel a bit guilty – I had intended to give Mr Cameron a little respite from the gruesome party conference world of tepid Chardonnay. But, I suppose, I don’t feel too guilty. The Spectator parties are distinguished not only by the calibre of the guest list but the finest chilled champagne. It’s our trademark. The Pol Roger was flowing defiantly when Lehman’s collapsed last year, and it needed no excuse to flow last night. I doubt the Tories will be too upset about this. If this is the worst mishap that happens to them, they’ll have had a pretty good week.