Strange party animals Following the Referendum Party's conference, we focus on the threat to Europe from within and without

Most attention has naturally been paid to the millionaires and eccentrics who have rallied to the rabble cause. There has been little said about the rest, largely because nobody knows who they are, almost all of them apparently have no knowledge or experience in politics, and it was only when the conference actually got under way that it was known that anyone at all - apart from the celebrities - would turn up.

But it was already clear that Sir James had touched some sort of nerve with the British people. Although so far only one-third of the proposed 600 parliamentary candidates have been announced, more than 2000 ``ordinary people'' have asked to be considered. That should, in fact, sound warning bells - ``ordinary people'' do not want to stand for Parliament unless they are slightly barmy.

The declared candidates may sound reassuringly normal - a former naval officer, an estate agent, a vintage car enthusiast - but it is probably a good thing that the party is employing a security firm to check out their backgrounds.

It is all very well for Sir James to boast about his rabble, but single-issue politics of the kind that he is espousing are highly likely to attract eccentrics. This must particularly be the case when the Referendum Party's single issue is so obscure.

They still do not know what their referendum is going to be about, apart from a number of vague statements about what Britain's future role in Europe should be. They tell us that all that matters is that the British people should have a choice - but on what? And I still cannot find anyone to tell me the circumstances in which the Referendum Party will imagine that it has secured its objective.

At present it proposes to put up candidates in seats where the sitting MP has not demonstrated support for a referendum. This may, or may not, have an impact on the outcome of each individual contest. It may cost both the Conservative and Labour Parties marginal seats.

But whatever happens, either a Conservative or a Labour Government will be elected and neither is likely to offer a referendum of the kind that Sir James apparently seeks. What happens then? Do they remain in business until they achieve what they want? Or are they just spoiling for an anti-European fight? The Referendum Party's spokesmen boast that it is not pro or anti-European and that Sir James is himself a fervent European enthusiast. I took part in a radio phone-in over the weekend with the millionaire financier, Peter de Savary, a candidate for the party in Cornwall, and he was particularly emphatic about this.

But it is not how it appears. The highest proportion of the ``infantry'' to show up for the Brighton spectacular were elderly, white, formerly Conservative, anti-European men. The eccentricity which to a considerable extent marks out the luminaries to the cause seems likely to be similarly true of the rest of the rabble.

It is, of course, the case that one could produce a list of the supporters of any political party to make it appear bizarre. What does it say about New Labour that its supporters are reported to include Oasis, Blur, John Mortimer, Prunella Scales, and, most recently, a conference of Roman Catholic Bishops? Answer: absolutely nothing. Any organisation which brings together a group of well-known people as diverse as those who have been attracted by Sir James's campaign is nevertheless still certain to cause raised eyebrows all over Westminster and West Hampstead.

This is because they are all notable, like Sir James himself, for a fairly advanced degree of egocentric eccentricity - and for being proud of it. To make the point it is only necessary to list the names and then imagine what these people might have discussed with each other at any of the myriad swell parties arranged to entertain the glittering array of party swells who were on parade in the Grand Hotel on Friday night.

Two of the most distinguished hosts, Lord McAlpine, the former Tory Party Treasurer, and Lady Powell, socialite - but most easily described as the wife of Sir Charles Powell, the former foreign affairs adviser to Lady Thatcher - admittedly have no difficulty in talking to anybody. (Except each other. As it happens, they do not get on particularly well.)

This is because Lord McAlpine will happily talk to anybody as long as they are amusing and Carla Powell is an Italian. But what would Adam Faith, ageing pop idol, have to say to Professor Alan Walters or cricketer, Geoffrey Boycott?

And, conversely, what would Professor Walters have to say to him? Would he even have heard of Mr Faith? Freddie Forsyth, the novelist, and Edward Fox, the actor, would not find conversation difficult with each other when they had got past discussing the relative merits of the current European Commission. They are both sufficiently famous to be able to handle the small talk, even if it's about the Common Agricultural Policy.

But what can either of them have found to say to John Aspinall, millionaire zoo-keeper and gambling club owner, a man who says he prefers animals to people - and no doubt has to deal with them in all his establishments? And if Lord Tonypandy, the former Speaker of the House of Commons, ever turned up in person - as opposed to sending a contribution by videotape - what would he find in common with the fashion director of Tatler, one Kate Reardon, who knew, just knew, darling! - that Brighton was The Place to be on Saturday? It is a very odd party.

There was only one name missing. When Tony Blair rose to speak to the Labour Conference he began by saying: ``Diana. Ladies and gentlemen.''

For a moment I forgot that a woman called Diana Jeuda was chairing the conference and thought: ``Wow!'' But now that they've stopped praying for her in the House of Commons before the parliamentary sitting every day, I can see no reason why Diana, Princess of Wales, should not soon espouse the cause. But, anyway, the report in the next issue of Hello! is certainly not one to be missed.