The best conference in the world?

It promised to be the conference to end all conferences: 2500 high-level businesspeople from across Europe gathering to hear dozens of VIPs speak in a lavish two-day event.

The first day's agenda included no fewer than three heads of state, as well as a dozen European Commissioners, and President Barroso. The venue was the European Business Summit, in Brussels.

The main topic of conversation was, surprise surprise, the recession. The first plenary included a speech by the dry-as-dust Belgian PM. Belgium, on account of its crippling internal division and infamous inability to form a government, has been referred to as the world's most successful failed state, so I wasn't sure how seriously to take his unimpressive boasts. I was about to nod off until he delivered the most embarrassing moment of the conference by ending his speech with a meek nod to Obama: "Can Europe overcome the recession. I say 'yes we can'." I felt half the audience groan.

Unfortunately this set the tone for a series of extremely dull speeches about the recession, and the dangers of protectionist measures being adopted. There was a lot of pro-European, anti-American smugness on display. Vision and charisma were sadly in short supply.

It turned out that nobody there was particularly interested in us either. As one of the only civil society groups there, and a fairly small one at that, it took just a few seconds of our elevator pitch before those we spoke to realised that they were wasting their time, as they were not going to make money out of us.

Following more short conversations and dull contributions from heads of state - the Czech PM, having resigned two days prior to the event, had his awkward deputy explain his recent controversies; the Turkish president mumbled about why Turkey should join the EU - things finally got interesting, with the onset of the cocktail reception.

As we hungrily gobbled the surprisingly few canapes that made their way to our perch, Carlo and I saw what must have been the youngest delegate at the conference, an unimpressed 15 year old boy in a suit ambling through the crowds. I wondered who would pay the €2,500 conference fee to have their bored kid there, but as Carlo explained, for the ruling classes it's essential to thrive in this kind of absurd environment. By the time he's 18 that guy will be running events like this.

After some trial and error we found the perfect spot to catch the waiters on their way from the kitchen, allowing us our pick of snacks and instant access to the endless supply of champagne. I was starting to enjoy being off duty, until Carlo pointed out a familiar face, sitting alone in the corner.

Will Hutton is one of the few authors that I can say changed my life. When I was 17 I read his tome on global capitalism, The World We're In, and it ignited my interest in geopolitics and worldwide inequality. And here I was, about to say hi. As we walked over to him I started to get nervous.

He was very friendly, and the three of us chatted for a few minutes. He came across as a true intellectual: relaxed, sharp, and with a power-play anecdote for any occasion. He casually described introducing Gordon Brown to Ed Balls (arguably now the real deputy PM), and described how New Labour came five years too late. I was hanging off his every word like a giddy schoolboy meeting his favourite footballer, until we got to the front of the queue to the gala dinner, and Carlo and I were asked for special tickets that we didn't know we needed. Will Hutton waved goodbye and casually wondered in, as we were escorted back out by the polite but assertive ushers.

In the end we managed to con our way in, and with some further creative honesty managed to get a seat at one of the sponsors' tables. But it was barely worth it. The food was good, but not great. Our company on the table - a Belgian consultant and fellow gatecrasher - was as dull as his PM. In the end it was probably not the best conference in the world.