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In her bestselling book, Everything I know About Love, Sunday Times Style columnist Dolly Alderton talks about the surreal time in her mid 20s when she worked as a very special kind of

script assistant for the E4 TV show, Fresh Meat. As the official Youth Representative, the writers would give her the script of each episode and she would give it what they called the

‘hepcat pass’. The hepcat pass was to make sure all the language was in keeping with youth; that it was authentic; that there wasn’t, in short, a “trace of middle age in the ink”. She would

advise on what texts they might be reading on an English course, what music they’d be listening to, and even what they’d be drinking (mentions of cava were hastily scrubbed out and replaced

with prosecco). As a huge fan of Fresh Meat, I can testify that she did an important job very well indeed. The characters, once jarring middle-ageisms had been expunged from the script, felt

like they’d been lifted straight from next door’s pre-drinks. And so, of course, the show was a hit. The Conservative Party, which has long since squandered the modicum of street cred

lovingly nurtured by David Cameron, is in dire need of a hepcat pass. The “up and coming” Tory MPs, now in their mid 40s, are too old to be friends with millennials or Gen Zs, but too young

to be their parents. With the notable exception of James Cleverly, who has rightly been promoted to Party Chairman, they haven’t a clue how to handle social media – or even how to talk to

those all important “youths”. No matter how much they try to behave like “real people” on Instagram, the passé hashtags and staged photos mark them out as digital dinosaurs: figures to be

mocked, pitied at a push, but certainly not followed or admired. And embarrassing gaffes are only the tip of the iceberg. Despite spending an eye-watering £2.1 million on Facebook

advertising, the Conservative Party’s social media strategy during the 2017 General Election was an abject failure: Labour – which spent just £500,000 – pulled in millions more likes and

shares. Why? Because instead of encouraging grassroots supporters to create shareable video content, as Momentum did, the Party poured money into high-quality, paid-for ads. This worked a

treat for them in 2015, but two years is a long time in the world of social media. When ads were first introduced they may have had the power to grab attention, but within 18 months users

had wised up; by June 2017, millennials scrolling through Facebook or Instagram were so used to ignoring branded content it was practically invisible. Any self respecting young person could

have passed on this invaluable information to the middle aged election gurus who ran both campaigns – potentially averting electoral disaster – but unfortunately, none had been recruited.

After the nightmare of 2017, May’s aides realised they needed to engage some millennials, but the way they went about was haphazard – to put it mildly. In March 2018, it was reported that

that the party planned to create “an army of paid tweeters” who would promote the Tory message, a plan that was roundly criticised – not least because it sounded eerily similar to the

Russian troll farms May has claimed threaten global democracy. The idea to enter into a semi-formal social media partnership with reality TV star Georgina Toffolo (from around the same

time), also turned out to be ill-fated. Yes “Toff” would merrily broadcast lines from CCHQ to her 300,000 Twitter followers, but she also told them that “Jacob Rees-Mogg is a sex god” –

which made her something of a liability. Over a year on and the Party may at last have found a solution. The new Special Advisors, who have been given unprecedented power by Dominic

Cummings, are refreshingly normal, young, and incredibly media savvy. Plucked mainly from the think tanks of SW1, they may be geeks, but they’re pulling off the geek chic vibe far better

than their wonkish predecessors. Many have their own social media followings, have been doing the media rounds for years, and – crucially – are sociable enough to have friends outside the

Westminster bubble. The young person problem which plagues the Tory Party is deep-rooted, and it won’t be solved overnight with an image shake up. Every week, YouGov releases a colourful new

info-graphic detailing the voting intentions of 18-24 year-olds, and, in each revision, the red section of the pie graph has gobbled up a little more of the blue. But the Tories have got to

start somewhere, and employing a band of intelligent, media savvy advisors to give out ‘hepcat passes’ to government ministers seems like a very sensible move indeed. Maybe, just maybe,

we’re heading for a Tory youthquake.