LIVERPOOL, England — Forget about thriving. Party conferences are to be survived.

The fringes, receptions, panels, meetings, dinners and drinks parties make most people’s heads spin. The heaving bar queues and sharp wine probably don’t help.

It’s hard enough for the experienced. As someone suffering/enjoying my 10th conference season, I still feel I haven’t quite got the hang of it. But I do have a few basic tips for newbies: 

The security queue is usually fine, apart from that one time (probably 9:15 a.m. on Monday) when it takes an hour (plus) to get through. No, telling security how important you are doesn’t help. I have a fond memory of a famous journalist shouting threats up to staff on a balcony. They obviously couldn’t care less.

But take your lanyard off when you leave. The only thing worse than being called a Labour traitor/Tory scum by protesters is when you’re actually just a journalist or a lobbyist. (Which, by some people’s metrics, are arguably worse.)

Everyone gossips, and there are journalists everywhere. This is very good for journalists and not so good if you are not a journalist.

By the time you’ve thought about telling your boss/news desk/client something they either very much do or very much don’t want to hear, it’s already on social media, somewhere.

Related: The Wi-Fi will always drop out exactly when you need it, especially in the stuffy basement of Liverpool’s ACC.

The first time you hear the party leader’s big pitch at an evening reception, it might seem thoughtful and interesting. Prepare to hear it seven more times.

Cabinet ministers’ main stage speeches are scripted and checked to within an inch of their life. Most of them do nothing to change the music.

You usually won’t learn anything from a five-way panel event that you didn’t already know or expect. Ditto five-minute stump speeches at regional receptions (There are many, many honorable exceptions, known in the trade as “gaffes.”) 

Just because the title of a fringe event is interesting, doesn’t mean the event will be. In fact there is often an inverse correlation.

A panelist being (invited) to a fringe doesn’t count. Sometimes they don’t even know they’re in the guide.

Anyone who says “it’s more of a comment than a question” should be catapulted into the Mersey.

You will get “conference brain.” Dramas will assume enormous importance that mean absolutely nothing to anyone a mile away.

Work out where you’ll sit for meetings. Some lobbying shops run lounges, but you need to register in advance to use them. Plan for this three weeks before reading this piece (sorry).

Block out time to eat. I avoid the cooked breakfast, because it makes me feel sluggish, and make sure I get lunch. Others go for the cooked breakfast and last all day. Spoiler: All the food in the conference center is measly, overpriced and unsatisfying.

Book a dinner somewhere you can sit down. It doesn’t matter who with, or even if you eat alone — your blood sugar needs you. Keep something small and sweet in your bag, too.

Stay hydrated. No, coffee doesn’t count. Beer definitely doesn’t, although it does seem to help in other ways. Alcohol-free beer tastes almost like the real thing these days.

Bring painkillers, Berocca, Strepsils — and some kind of jumper. The conference venue can be home to its own strange kind of dry chill.

And always prepare for rain — and howling wind. Liverpool and Brighton (home to Labour conference) are far less forgiving than Manchester or Birmingham (home to the Conservatives), but they can all be brutal. In early fall, that midnight rain is cold. Cobbles make it worse.

Good luck getting a taxi!

Which brings us to: Proximity is everything, especially when choosing a hotel. You won’t spend any time there anyway.

See also: The McDonald’s on the dual carriageway by the Albert Dock is always heaving at 2 a.m.

There are usually at least six drinks parties going on at the same time. It’s bedlam trying to work out what they all are, where, and how you can get on the list.

Don’t worry too much. There’s always a party you can get into. No one remembers the parties you weren’t at; only the ones you were.

The minister’s aide or a party policy official will usually be a better contact than their boss. And you might even have a nice time together.

Work out your own personal diary before you get there. You’ll suddenly realize the 11 things you wanted to do at the same time.

But rip it all up when you get there. Go with your gut. Lean into the chaos.

Almost no conversations you have after 1 a.m. will be useful … apart from that one that changes the entire path of your career. And the things you do in these hours will be your very best memories of conference.

Choose at least one event to go to purely because you’ll enjoy it personally — not for any professional gain. Unless you’re one of those mad people who actually enjoys conference.

You will get sick. Best of luck.