t's a thought. A bold one. Possibly a career-ending one. But a thought nonetheless. When Theresa May told the Tory conference in 2002 that under Iain Duncan Smith the Conservatives had become "the Nasty party", many members took that to mean they had become undesirable. Within a few years, David Cameron had moved the Tories closer to the "hug a husky" centre and by 2010 he was prime minister.

Kemi Badenoch takes a rather different view. For her, being the Nasty party is a badge of honour. An aspiration. People had had it far too good with austerity, Brexit, Covid and the Liz Truss mini-budget. The country needed a reality check; a return to old-fashioned unpleasantness. A taste of genuine hardship. People had got far too used to getting something for nothing. Especially the physically and mentally ill. What they needed was a short sharp shock of intense labour from 8am to 8pm. That would make them feel better. And anyone found skiving would be banged up for a short time in prison. Say 10 years.

And take a bow, her cheerleader-in-chief. The man whose sycophancy consistently goes above and beyond the call of duty. We're talking, of course, of the shadow home secretary, Chris Philp. He had chosen to mark the beginning of Tory conference with an interview to the Sun in which he had identified himself as a one-man vigilante force. For the next four days, he had personally guaranteed that Birmingham would be a crime-free zone. The Philpster would be on guard night and day to arrest all shoplifters and to check up on people who hadn't paid their TV licence. From now on he would be a superhero. BatTwat.

For Kemi, the beginning of conference was marked with the traditional BBC interview with Laura Kuenssberg. One where she would try to be the cosiest version of herself. The nasty leader with the heart of gold. A woman who could say in all honesty that "this was hurting her more than it was hurting you" as she removed someone's benefits. This was Kemi returning in triumph. A year ago, her position as leader had looked ropey. Now the Tories have had a long, hard look around and concluded there actually isn't anyone better.

"Is this a return to the nasty party?" asked Kuenssberg. Kemi was trying not to phrase it in precisely those terms. Nasty was only a word to be implied. Rather, she would prefer it if we could use the words "commonsense" party. Common sense, as in it was plain to everyone that something had to be done. And that something was to pick on the poorest and most vulnerable people in society. For years now, these parasites had been lounging around and getting fat on benefits. Asking themselves not what they could do for the Tory party but what the Tory party could do for them.

To illustrate her point, Kemi proudly drew Laura's attention to her rather desperate pamphlet The Right Way, which the Tories have published as their new credo. Six principles of Conservatism to get them through the bad times. To remind them they are right even when the country thinks they are unelectable. Kemi's Kemistry, as she hopes we will call it. The first rule is that Kemi never makes mistakes. Asked to name anything she has changed her mind about, she comes up with nothing. The laws of physics will change long before Kemi. She wants us to think of The Right Way as her foundational document that will be spoken of in hushed tones for decades to come. It will be lucky to survive until tomorrow.

We then moved on to Kemi's latest big idea: to give everyone who makes more than £100,000 a year unlimited free childcare. The case was unarguable, said Kemi. Free childcare was totally wasted on people on the minimum wage because they couldn't be trusted to spend the money wisely. It would probably all be wasted on Happy Meals at McDonald's or a Sky subscription. Let's face it, it was just chucking good money after bad. Most working-class kids were bound to end up on benefits anyway, so why encourage them from the moment they were born? It's time they learned to be self-sufficient. What a contrast with the top 5% of the country. They could at least spend their benefits on something worthwhile. Like baby yoga.

Kemi was also keen to keep pensioners happy. We will retain the triple lock, she said. Even though half the shadow cabinet know it's completely unaffordable. Old people definitely had to be kept sweet, as they were about the last section of the country who actually voted Tory. Not that this was any factor in shaping current policy. Because Kemi had just published The Right Way, in which she had declared that her principles were whatever she wanted them to be on the day. And, by the way, this would all be paid for by cutting benefits for the 10 million scroungers who were cheating the system. Could you verify that figure? Laura asked. Kemi shook her head. It was just a well-known fact that she had made up. So no need.

After going on to say she would be building 50,000 more prison spaces for all the criminals BatTwat arrested in the next four days, the interview meandered to a close. In the studio, Penny Mordaunt declared it to be the best interview a Tory leader had ever given. Penny is beside herself with joy at having passed the test to be admitted to the MPs' candidate list. Answering yes to questions such as: "Are you mad?" and "Are you happy to trash the Good Friday agreement?" It was Penny's performance in the Sky reality show The War Game that swung it. As defence secretary she couldn't wait to start a nuclear apocalypse. Come friendly bombs.

Over in the conference centre, the complex was strangely quiet. Maybe the news that everything is going swimmingly for the Tories hasn't yet filtered down to MPs and members. Even the main hall wasn't full, and there was nothing going on elsewhere. But those who were there seemed happy enough. Perhaps they are genuinely delighted that things aren't going even worse. That they are still only four points in the polls off their disastrous 2024 election result. That it doesn't matter that the so-called Keminaissance exists largely in their imaginations.

But on we go. A party the country still regards as toxic is determined to double down on its toxicity. Desperate to track ever further to the right and abandon its centre right to Labour and the Lib Dems. It feels like madness. But this conference is all about Kult Kemi. There is even an AI slop, sub-Beano reproduction of the Bayeux tapestry. A series of tableaux leading to the moment Kemi saves the world. She looks on beatifically as several easily identified journalists take dictation. Curiously, I'm not one of them.