You can’t miss the union jacks. They are everywhere at this year’s Labour party conference. On the walls of the exhibition halls, hung outside the venue and plastered all over the main stage in Liverpool. Everything is red, white and blue. It wouldn’t surprise me if the shadow cabinet weren’t all under instructions to wear union jack pants. No one is going to accuse Labour of not loving the UK in the run-up to the next election. Vote Labour. It’s your patriotic duty. You also can’t miss the crowds. Unlike the Tory conference last week, which often felt like a dead zone, Labour’s is rammed. The exhibition hall is full of both well-known corporates, like Barclays and Mastercard, and windfarm and hydrogen-car manufacturers, while the main hall is twice the size of the Conservatives’ in Manchester. What’s more, it’s at least three-quarters full for most sessions. Even for the members’ composites. Especially for the members’ composites. Keir Starmer hasn’t yet managed to turn the Labour Liverpool experience into a cheerleading rally. Though he’s working on it. The one conundrum is the conference slogan. Let’s Get Britain’s Future Back. What exactly does it mean? Are we back to the future like some latter day Marty McFly? Will a Keir past and a Keir present somehow meet in a Keir future? It’s sometimes hard to know which way is up. All this is all nitpicking, though. What you really need to know is that everything is going terribly well. Not that Labour would like you to think that. They wouldn’t want you to imagine that they were enjoying the UK’s cost of living crisis and the continuing chaos of the Tories. But look at it this way. If the country was even vaguely functional, then Labour would be up against it to win the next election. As it is, they are everyone’s runaway favourites to form the next government. The Tories know it, Labour knows it and business knows it. That’s why so many have flocked to Liverpool to cosy up to the next prime minister. Why bother to talk to Rishi Sunak when you can talk to the man who will probably shape industrial strategy for the next five to 10 years. But it doesn’t do to look complacent. To look as if you are taking anything for granted. Just in case voters think you are taking the piss and hubris comes back to bite you. So this year’s conference has two personalities. There’s the one for official consumption. That’s the one of caution and modesty. Nothing’s won till everything’s won. Where everyone must be ever vigilant. Always on message. No gain, however incremental, must be passed up. All optimism heavily caveated. There is always more to be done to win the public trust. Everyone must be on their best behaviour. No sign of disagreement. Unity is everything. Labour speaks as one. Unlike the Tories who were fighting like rats in a sack. Like an opposition in disarray. There was even a stern public service announcement in the hall before proceedings got under way. Everyone should be really nice to one another. If you didn’t like what someone had said, then you should politely disagree. Not denounce them as Tories. And the conference did as it was told. No one did anything to disrupt. Then there is the subtext. The reality. That all the polls point to a Labour majority and that it’s hard to see what Sunak can do to reverse the country’s decline. Most people reckon the Tories have had more than long enough to sort things out and it’s time for a change. They just laugh at the prime minister’s insistence that only the Tories can reverse 13 years of Tory failure. More importantly, the country is now looking to Labour for answers because they are the ones who will be running the show. No longer just a symbolic opposition. Even the media seemed to have got the message. The traditional BBC interview at the start of the conference felt as though we had skipped a year and Victoria Derbyshire was talking to the next prime minister. She and Starmer were both by turns serious and seriously dull. Which came as a relief. We’ve had enough of exciting leaders for a while. But Keir did get to talk about policy – his five missions are still somewhat opaque – and growth. He also got to spend the £1.5bn he plans to raise from non-doms for at least the third time. The closest he came to news was promising to ditch the Rwanda scheme. Over in the hall, the main attraction was Angela Rayner. She too has changed. She used to sound like the outsider, even though she had a good story to tell. Now she was almost regal. Someone who knows her place. Knows her worth. Expects to be deputy prime minister. She also knows how to deliver a speech. She got some good laughs in at the expense of the Tories – hell, everyone does these days – before promising to build more affordable homes. By the time she wrapped up with an election call to arms, she had the whole hall eating out of her hands. The afternoon was devoted to a session on “how to win the next election”. Though we didn’t learn much apart from knocking on more doors and having more conversations. It was taken for granted Labour had the right policies. We did get the national campaign coordinator, Pat McFadden, though. The Enforcer. Everything he says comes across more as a threat than encouragement. You wouldn’t want to mess with him. He’s also got a morose, miserable delivery. “We need hope,” he said in a way that had 1,500 people reaching for an overdose. It takes all sorts. Next up was Little Keir. Mini Keir. AKA the five-year-old Keir Mather who won the Selby and Ainsty byelection in the summer. We’ll probably find there’s a Labour diktat that all candidates have to be called Keir from now on. Mini Keir was also relentlessly on message. Big Keir was doing a wonderful job. In Big Keir we trust. Somewhere in all that, there might be a personality somewhere. But that would be a luxury. There was just time for the conference to agree to not debate Brexit – so much better to avoid division – and that was about it. Much of the day had understandably been overshadowed by events in Israel. But that almost suited Labour. They plan to take power. Not with a bang but by osmosis. To slide under the radar without the Tories noticing. So far, so good. Depraved New World by John Crace (Guardian Faber, £16.99). To support the Guardian and Observer, pre-order your copy and save 15% at guardianbookshop.com. Delivery charges may apply.