But for many of the thousands of people who attend — party members, journalists, senior politicians, lobbyists, PR types, etcetera — many not casting a single vote in the conference hall, Labour conference is also a sort of social bedlam, an intense and energy sapping whirlwind of nods and winks and meetings and chats and interviews and jokes and parties and drinks and cadged-cigarettes and regrets and hangovers. This quickly becomes apparent when, as an observer, one attempts to knock it into any sort of coherent narrative shape, ex post facto.
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