QUENTIN LETTS: Mr Tugendhat regretted our new PM cared only about buses. That, he said, pointing to the drone above, ain't no bus

Published: 17:05 EDT, 6 October 2026 | Updated: 17:11 EDT, 6 October 2026 Never mind a snap election: at the Conservative conference, they were preparing for a Kremlin air raid.An Iranian Shahed attack-drone, recently downed in Kiev, was suspended over the stage. Ukrainian children sang to us – ‘peace is what we want’ – and former Tory MP Jack Lopresti was striding about the conference venue in military fatigues. Having lost his Commons seat in 2024 he has joined Ukraine’s national guard.The afternoon debate was on foreign affairs, defence and (neat financial juxtaposition) welfare spending. Prof Niall Ferguson, historian, did a goolie-shrivelling turn about how we were on the brink of World War Three. He sat on stage and craned forward, staring urgently as he noted that Birmingham was within range of missiles from Kaliningrad. ‘Why do we struggle to imagine this?’ cried the Prof, chiding public complacency about the Russian menace.His very fibre was taut, one forefinger pointing at the drone. That digit threw a foreboding shadow. The way his left eyeball was throbbing, it could have been an indignant oyster, outraged at being squirted with lemon. Prof Ferguson had not previously been to a Tory conference (lucky devil) but had agreed to attend because Kemi’s was the only party taking national security seriously.Tom Tugendhat, Shadow Foreign Secretary, had just mentioned the ‘strong men’ of today’s global power games.Ferguson, fortissimo: ‘What we need is a STRONG WOMAN!’ Someone mentioned Andy Burnham’s belief that national security must not come at the expense of social security. At this point the Prof’s oyster almost shot out of its socket as he exclaimed that he was ‘still reeling’ from that particular idiocy.The dullness of Monday’s conference was quite forgotten. A Ukrainian MP with imperfect English was given five minutes to say we needed to grab weapons, and fast. Mr Tugendhat regretted that our new PM was interested only in buses. ‘That,’ he said, indicating the darn drone, ‘ain’t a bus.’A video speech was barked by Gen Patrick Sanders, former Chief of the General Staff, now a Tory peer. He had a sword and jambiya on his study wall, along with, I think, some sort of goat-scrotum Persian sling. The General, full of military peril, yacked out of the right side of his mouth like Popeye. Tom Tugendhat, Shadow foreign secretary, delivers his speech to the Tory Party conference An Iranian Shahed attack-drone, recently downed in Kyiv, was suspended over the stage at the Conservative conference James Cartlidge, Shadow Defence Secretary, doubted the wisdom of Mr Burnham’s touchy-feely approach. ‘Hope,’ said Mr Cartlidge, ‘will not stop an Iranian drone. Vibes will not bring down a cruise missile.’ Much more of this sort of talk and shoppers were going to start bulk-buying bumfodder. I was starting to wish I’d planted more autumn shallots.Our veins, already pulsating, were given a further pipe-clean by Shadow Work and Pensions Secretary Helen Whately, who wished to stop indolent dodgers being given benefits when there was nothing wrong with them. Mrs Whately used to be a Boden-catalogue Cameroon. Now she’s a Thatcherite Brunhilde in designer specs.Talking of which, it was not all blood and guts. The conference day also featured a discussion about the fashion industry. Your sketchwriter has seldom felt so deeply behind foreign lines. Shadow Culture Secretary Rebecca Paul welcomed to the stage, with great air-kissing ‘mwaws’, three fashion experts called Plum, Tikki and Libby. They talked about John Galliano, Vivienne Westwood (she’s not often mentioned at Tory conferences), cashmere sweaters and rich Continentals who used to drop £50,000 on shoes in a single day’s shopping but no longer do so, apparently, because of the tourist tax.Rebecca was in a blue creation by Libby London. Tikki worked for Jigsaw. The ladies expressed wonder that Angela Rayner’s recent green outfit from Me+Em had not done that designer terminal damage.Plum, enthusing that ‘it’s really fun to go shopping’, was in a gorgeous white Tom Ford trouser suit. The women in the audience were rapt. But in the row in front of me sat a 70-something bloke in a crumpled jacket, polyester strides and plastic shoes. From his thrown-back head came a rasping snore.