ARGH, my head! I can’t remember the last time I drank so much.

Well, need to drown the sorrows of the last few days. And what better way than on the themed Labour bottle beers that my aide picked up for me.

Why be bitter when you’ve got a publicity team to create bitterness for you all in one bottled up gimmick?

What’s the time? Only 11.30am. Boy George will be on soon to talk about the economy or something like that, then this afternoon IDS will be talking about the ruddy welfare state — hasn’t he got rid of it yet!? The amount of times I’ve bailed him out.

That’s all I need. The aftermath of a ruddy shit-storm and we’ve got two speakers with a track record of getting their sums wrong. It’s tempting just to stay where I am, safe and locked away in my hotel room protected by a ring of steel and those upstanding gentlemen at G4S.

Probably just pop down to do my speech on Wednesday and then I can get the hell out of here. Can’t stand showing my face to the plebs.

Was going to head down to a fringe this morning entitled “the northern problem and how to solve it” but then Samantha pointed out that it’s all waffle about how to get people up there to like us again and undo the damage that Thatcher did to industries and jobs, which is news to me.

Time to get my aide to grab me a bottle of Our Maggie — so glad it’s back again — from the Tory paraphernalia stall. I’ll need it if I’m expected to show my face for Osborne’s big moment.