Party pooper

I was very kindly invited to a US Election night party in Mayfair tonight.

I don’t think I’ve ever been to one before - not even in the heady days of Ronald Reagan when I was on good terms with the Young America’s Foundation - so my immediate reaction was, “That sounds like fun, I really ought to go”.

But then I had second thoughts.

Beginning at 7.30pm, the party is scheduled to go on until ‘late’. But how late?

Given the time difference, would we actually witness any election results? And would anyone be watching or would they all be talking over the TV coverage?

The last US-themed event I went to was a Superbowl party in London in January 1984 and you could count on one hand the number of guests who were actually watching the game.

I was one of them so it was quite annoying that so few people were interested in what I mistakenly thought was the whole point of the evening.

That party went on ‘late’ too but I was young then.

Today my definition of ‘late’ means midnight. Anything later and I’m liable to fall asleep, especially if I’ve been drinking for several hours.

And when I fall asleep I snore. Loudly.

After midnight and it would be too late to catch a train home so I’d have to stay overnight in a hotel and watch the results on TV in the morning which I could do just as easily in my own house.

It would be cheaper too.

Worst of all, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t know many people, which would bring back memories of the Spectator Summer Party that I once gatecrashed.

Thinking about it still gives me nightmares.

Truth is, I have never enjoyed parties and I am such a party pooper I wouldn’t even invite myself.

But I genuinely appreciate the thought and I will keep the invitation as a reminder of what could, for better or worse, be an historic night.