There’s a particular kind of magic that happens when the Conservative Party descends on a city for its annual conference, and it isn’t always the kind you’d expect from a political gathering. This year, in Birmingham’s ICC, the media room was buzzing with the usual frantic energy of journalists hunting for scoops, when a man from the Tory press team walked in with his arms full of bright blue paper bags. It was a moment that felt less like the start of a serious political summit and more like the opening scene of a slightly chaotic party. Inside those bags were tongue-in-cheek treats, carefully curated to get the press through the long days ahead, and they offered a window into the mood of a party that seems, for now, to have traded its usual grim-faced discipline for something a little more playful. Anyone wondering why it’s still worth spending four days every year in what can feel like an alternate universe known as Toryland might find the answer right here in these freebies. As one journalist put it, the atmosphere in Brum is more jovial than in previous years, and it helps that the Conservatives apparently serve fancier wine at their afterparties than Labour or the Liberal Democrats do. But beyond the booze and the banter, the gift bags themselves were a little political theatre in miniature, a collection of jokes, jabs, and one very serious pamphlet that told us more about where the Tories currently stand than any speech from the main stage ever could.
Let’s start with the items that ranked at the bottom, because even the failures are revealing. In sixth place was the “Bottler Burnham” bottle of water, which sounds like a fun idea on paper: take a standard bottle, swap the label for a cartoon of Manchester Mayor Andy Burnham, and give it a cheeky nickname. The cartoon is reminiscent of the celebrated illustrator Stanley Chow’s famous style, and Chow is not amused; he’s apparently said he’ll be seeking legal advice. The real problem, though, isn’t the art — it’s the message. A Tory press officer explained that the “Bottler” angle referred to the Prime Minister’s decision not to call a snap election. But that’s a strange thing to tease, because the Tories aren’t exactly clamouring for an election right now, and current polls suggest they’d only get back into power with the help of Reform UK. Then there’s the small print on the label, which reads: “Bottled under pressure from Badenoch.” So wait — the Prime Minister opted against a snap election because the Tory leader pressured him? That doesn’t make sense in any obvious political context, and it left journalists scratching their heads more than laughing. At least the bottle served a practical purpose. Staying hydrated is essential at these events, and the fifth item in the bag, a hydration sachet, was undoubtedly the most useful thing included. But let’s be honest: a hydration sachet is about as exciting as a spreadsheet. It’s the kind of thing you’re grateful for when your head is pounding after a night of “networking,” but it doesn’t exactly spark joy. It ranked fifth because it was practical, not because it was fun.
Moving up the list, we find the intellectual heart of the gift bag: “The Right Way,” an 83-page pamphlet that Kemi Badenoch spent her summer writing. It’s a serious document, setting out her principles and her vision for governing the country, and the title is a deliberate echo of Margaret Thatcher’s own pamphlet, “The Right Approach,” written fifty years ago. There’s something admirably old-school about a party leader sitting down to write a long-form essay on political philosophy, especially in an era of soundbites and social media clips. As a piece of literature, it’s a welcome addition to the conference discourse, a chance to get inside the mind of a leader who clearly wants to be seen as a thinker, not just a politician. But as an item in a bundle of freebies meant to lighten the mood, it’s a bit like finding a textbook in your Christmas stocking. You respect it, but you’re not going to reach for it after a glass of that fancy conference wine. Far more delightful was the third-place item: Andy Panders’ People Pleaser Pick N Mix. The name is a brilliant play on Badenoch’s favourite attack line against the Prime Minister, the idea being that he’s so terrified of upsetting anyone that he can’t make tough decisions. The label on the bag of sweets reads: “Free sweets for everyone, it will only cost you higher taxes.” It’s a sharp, funny political jab wrapped in sugar. And to top it off, the packaging features another cartoon of Andy Burnham, this time with even more fabulous eyelashes. Stanley Chow, presumably, is not thrilled about this one either. But as political merchandise goes, it’s genuinely charming, the kind of thing you’d actually keep on your desk as a conversation starter.
Then there was the highlight of the conference, the thing that had everyone talking: the Birmingham Tapestry, and the ticket that came with it in the goodie bag. The real Bayeux Tapestry exhibition at the British Museum has been sold out for ages, but the Tories decided to create their own parody version, and it’s magnificent. The tapestry tells the story of British politics since the 2024 election in 61 AI-generated scenes printed on an actual linen blend, and it’s the kind of ambitious, ridiculous, and strangely wonderful project that you can’t help but admire. Among its many highlights are Angela Rayner vaping on a dinghy and Badenoch chasing a pint-sized Robert Jenrick out of her party. It’s the kind of thing that makes you laugh, then think, then laugh again because it’s all so absurdly on the nose. The ticket included in the gift bag isn’t actually required for entry, but it’s a nice reminder that this is the undisputed centrepiece of this year’s conference. It’s creative, it’s cheeky, and it shows that the party is willing to laugh at itself, at least a little. In a political landscape that often feels overwhelmingly serious and combative, the tapestry is a breath of fresh airestranged, and it’s the item that journalists will be talking about long after the conference endsments have been packed away.
But the number one item, without a doubt, was the Nigel Farage brown envelope. In terms of pure effort and sheer audacity, nothing else in the gift bag came close. It was a small brown envelope addressed to Farage at Reform UK’s Millbank Tower headquarters, complete with postmarks from Thailand, where top donor Chris Harborne is based, from Montenegro, where backer George Cottrell has a home, and from Russia. Inside were chocolate coins, and they were gloriously weird. On one side was an AI-generated image of Farage laughing, surrounded by the phrase “Farage’s Fishy Funding” alongside the words “Russia Bank” written in Cyrillic. On the other side was a Bitcoin logo. It’s a multi-layered joke, referencing the ongoing controversies around Reform UK’s finances, the foreign donors linked to the party, and the persistent questions about Russia that just won’t go away. The envelope is designed to wind Farage up, and it will almost certainly succeed. But even if you’re not a fan of the political point it’s making, you have to appreciate the craftsmanship. It’s the kind of item that makes you stop, look closer, and laugh despite yourself. And let’s be honest: the chocolate coins were a welcome treat. At the end of the day, no matter how clever or cutting the political satire is, there’s something universally comforting about free chocolate, especially when you’re stuck in a conference centre for days on end.
Taken together, the contents of the gift bag paint a picture of a Conservative Party that is trying to figure out how to be both serious and playful, how to attack its opponents while also having a laugh at itself. There’s an underlying tension in every item, a sense that the party is testing out a new tone, one that acknowledges its current position in the political wilderness but refuses to be miserable about it. The jokes about Andy Burnham, the mockery of Nigel Farage, the self-deprecating references to Badenoch’s leadership and the Prime Minister’s indecisiveness — it all feels like a party trying to find its footing in a world where it’s no longer the automatic party of government. The serious pamphlet sits awkwardly alongside the sweets and the chocolate coins, and maybe that’s the point. The Conservatives are trying to have it all: intellectual heft and playful irreverence, political attack and gentle self-mockery. Whether it works is another question. But for the journalists who were handed those blue bags in Birmingham, it made for a memorably human experience. It’s easy to forget that behind the slogans and the spin, politics is still carried out by people, and people love a good joke, a clever insult, and a free bag of sweets. The gift bags were a reminder that even in the middle of a conference full of policy debates and leadership wrangling, a little bit of joy can go a long way. And if nothing else, they gave us all something to talk about — and something to chew on — for the rest of the week.
