Look on the bright side. No one gave the prime minister a P45. Her voice just about held out. And the video screen backdrop with the word “opportunity” on it didn’t develop a glitch and switch to “porn” instead. After avoiding all that, anything else would be near enough an unqualified success.

Not that there weren’t a few awkward moments in the buildup. As members of the cabinet trooped in to the hall, it became clear there weren’t enough seats for David Lidington, Sajid Javid, Jeremy Hunt and Philip Hammond. Either they are not wanted on voyage or someone in the government can’t count. Four ordinary punters were unceremoniously hoiked out of the auditorium.

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Then the attorney general, Geoffrey Cox, chose to use his 10-minute introduction as a pantomime audition. Blackadder channels Brian Blessed. The audience went wild and if the Tory party conference had ended at that point everyone would have gone home delirious. If there is a next year, Theresa May will be more careful in her choice of warm-up act. No one wants to be upstaged on their big day out.

Still, at least the prime minister nailed her entrance. As Abba’s Dancing Queen was played through the PA system, Theresa hoofed her way on stage doing a reprise of her cringe-inducing South African Peter Crouch dance. Whatever else she has achieved in her time in office, no one can say she hasn’t worked hard at refining her Maybot image. This latest iteration looked the real deal. Britain: not just world leaders in AI, but a world leader as AI.

Having won over the hall with a little self deprecation, May reverted to the more familiar territory of living down to expectations. There was no way of getting away from it: though this was one of the best speeches she had made as prime minister it was still a Theresa May speech. As such, it was riddled with contradictions, largely devoid of content and went on at least a quarter of an hour too long as the algorithms buffered in a spinning circle of death.

“I want a party not for the few, not even for the many but for everyone who is willing to work hard and do their best,” she said. An almost perfect description of herself. No one can accuse May of not working hard or trying to do her best. It’s just that these qualities aren’t always quite enough in a prime minister who has turned mediocrity into an art form. What she wanted was a party where she could feel at home: whether her party actually wanted her as its leader was rather more in doubt. Many of the people who were politely applauding her had been cheering and whooping for Boris Johnson the day before.

Oblivious to the pathos, May ploughed on with a plea for national unity. Seemingly unaware of the irreconcilable splits in her own party, she made the case for the Tories being the party of inclusion. “If your dad arrived on a plane from Pakistan, you can become home secretary,” she said. Yes. And once the government’s proposed immigration plans come into force, your dad will be on the first plane back to Pakistan.

In a final, desperate, plea for someone, anyone, to love her, she begged a few Labour centrists to come and join her for a night in staring at the wall and sharing awkward silences.

Then she moved on to Brexit. Here she had a genuine announcement. She had listened to the party and was going to “chuck Chequers”. As in “chuck the name Chequers”. She was still going to press ahead with the Brexit deal that the EU, Labour and dozens of MPs in her own party had already said was unworkable. She just wasn’t going to refer to it as Chequers any more. Instead it was going to be called “Nothing at All”. Mainly because nothing at all had so far been agreed on Northern Ireland or the future trading relationship with the EU. But once nothing at all had been agreed she was absolutely clear that austerity was going to end and we would all have lots of money even if nothing at all was agreed. No wonder everyone looked a bit confused.

“Our best years lie ahead,” May declared. Thereby inadvertently drawing attention to the fact that everything had been – and still was – irredeemably awful for the past 10 years. But as a reward we would get to enjoy a Festival of Brexit Britain in 2022. To celebrate years of rationing and the fact that not all of us had died. Lucky, lucky us. Can’t wait.

As the speech neared the hour mark, most people in the hall got a bit twitchy. You can have too much of an average thing. When May finally wound to a close, the audience clapped enthusiastically. Though not too enthusiastically. This was how the Tory conference ended. Not with a bang. Not even with a whimper. But with a stampede for the exits.