Some people, and they are wrong of course, say that journalism is showbusiness for ugly people. Journalists say that estate agency is showbusiness for ugly people. Estate agents say the law is showbusiness for ugly people. But the journalists, the estate agents and the lawyers all agree on one thing; politics is most definitely showbusiness for the ugliest of the ugly. And if that is the case then party conference is most certainly the ugly people’s Oscars.
There are of course easy comparisons to make: sunny, sandy Bournemouth as Los Angeles for example, and breakfast meetings with people who can make and break careers. And for the average political geek, just as you can’t walk through LA without bumping into a star, you can’t walk more than 50 metres at conference without bumping into one of your heroes, be it Billy Bragg playing the piano in the late night hotel bar, Tony Benn regaling you with just one more story about the Levellers, or John Prescott looking like he has just thrown a punch at an egg handed protestor.
Both the Academy and the Conference Unit have things to learn from each other of course. I have always rather liked the way the Oscars have beautifully dressed models ready to slot into place when a star nips to the loo so that camera shots of the whole auditorium don’t show any gaps. It’s like a totalitarian wet dream without the need for photoshop. If conference was to do this of course the stand-ins would have to mainly wear badly fitting suits with the odd cord jacket thrown in. But I also think the Oscars could learn from us. While watching Ellen DeGeneres, Chris Rock and Jon Stewart host the evening, with various degrees of success, I have often thought that what is missing is a natty phrase for the year ahead. Perhaps: ‘tragedy and foreign films first’ or ‘new comedy, new laughter’ as a backdrop.
Another similarity between the two is the opportunity conference provides delegates to display their feathers. Sure, with film stars it’s designer finery on the red carpet and with politicos it’s the latest voluntary sector pin but the concept is the same – it’s a chance to find somebody from the same world as you who doesn’t think your intimate knowledge of the life of Annie Besant is remotely geeky. One of the reasons, I am sure, that we like reading about the love lives of celebrities is that we feel reassured by beautiful people sleeping and breeding with other beautiful people, thus ensuring there will always be enough beautiful movie star children to fulfil our celluloid fantasies in the future. Similarly our showbusiness for ugly people acts as a dating agency for political people and guarantees a future generation of political geeks who know how to spell gerrymandering.
But my absolute favourite recent Oscar story is the one about the goody bags given to stars for taking part in the ceremony or being nominated. Apparently the luxury gift baskets, which have in the past included designer clothing and hotel stays, are a taxable benefit. For a while it looked like the stars would be taxed on goody bags they had never asked for, but in the end the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences agreed to pay the tax obligation on their behalf.
This year I have enjoyed extending the Oscars metaphor to the goodies that people take home from conference. I wonder what the tax burden on a quango stress ball, a private health provider frisbee and a dozen lollipops is and whether, if it’s all taxable, the money raised could be hypothecated in some way to pay for the clean up operation needed after binge-drinking delegates have vomited on the prom.