Status Anxiety | 10 May 2008

I managed to crash the Vanity Fair Oscars party – but not Boris’s victory do

It was not until I saw Boris making his acceptance speech at City Hall just after midnight that I decided to gatecrash his victory party. I was quite drunk, having just hosted a dinner party, and my wife had long gone to bed. The only two girls remaining were about to share a cab home together, but I implored them to come with me to Millbank Tower where the celebrations were already underway.

‘Are you sure we’ll get in?’ asked one of them as I squeezed into the taxi. ‘Are you kidding?’ I said. ‘I’m the only journalist in the country to gatecrash the Vanity Fair Oscars party. This’ll be a doddle.’ ‘But, surely, if we don’t have an invitation?’ ‘My face is my invitation,’ I said. ‘Watch and learn.’

There was a long line of people snaking round the building when we arrived — loyal campaign workers waiting to get in, no doubt — and the girls automatically gravitated towards the back. ‘No need to queue up with the rest of the civilians,’ I said loudly, piloting them to the front of the line. ‘We’re VIPs.’

I pushed past the befuddled officials counting off the guests at the door and arrived in the lobby with a beautiful girl on each arm, what Frank Sinatra used to call ‘cufflinks’. At this point, we were faced by a second, more formidable group of officials, these ones carrying clipboards and barking orders into walkie-talkies. I could feel the girls tighten their grip, as if to say, ‘What now?’ At that very moment, David Cameron swept in, accompanied by his trusty spin-doctor, Andy Coulson.