This article is from the March issue of Total Politics

There is a reason why politics ages you, and it’s called alcohol. To drink is to socialise and to socialise is to network. Indeed, if the greasy pole were an actual, physical object it would be lubricated with hard liquor.

For those of us under the age of 30, bereft of domestic responsibility and a semi-coherent understanding of our personal finances, the social, political circle is visited more than the supermarket. There are people who I see every week at one gathering or another but I couldn’t tell you their names, mostly as the blazer-and-jeans-combo on someone too young to grow stubble is to be avoided.

I can’t speak with any real authority on Labour or Lib Dems drinking habits but at cross-party gatherings, it’s normally the Tories shouting and falling over while our counterparts stand on the sidelines bemused or irritated. I recall turning down a bottle of champagne (which by that point was probably just backwash) after it had been thrust in my face. The perpetrator asked me: “Where’s your Bullingdon spirit?”

It’s important to attend these outings because if you can master the ability to stand straight, hold a full glass and debate the finer points of government policy while truly plastered, then you can do it anywhere. Having honed this skill myself, I am quite content to attend the drearier parliamentary receptions.

Talking your way into a room full of free alcohol is a perk that comes with working for an MP. The trick is to drink white wine and only eat canapés with your back to the room. Nothing is more embarrassing than being cornered just as you’ve shoved three savoury cupcakes into your mouth. These charity organisers don’t like having food coughed over them as you exchange greetings.

Socialising is important. Without it, you could end up a 40-year-old boasting about your Rubik’s Cube skills.

Felicity blogs at felicityparkes.blogspot.com

Tags: Felicity Parkes, Issue 45