The conference season is upon us once again and most of the Brighton residents will be running for cover if they have any sense.

The city centre becomes a no-go area as the heavies from various organisations move in to ensure their particular VIP is not hassled by the likes of you and me as we try to go about our daily grind.

It is true that conferences bring a lot of money into the city and there certainly was a time when one could go and gaze on the great and the good as they strode purposefully into the conference halls or dined at Brighton's finest restaurants - but alas, no longer.

The wilder elements in our midst have made people-gazing a dangerous sport and democracy is diminished accordingly as the police move us on in case we might have something nasty (like an egg?) concealed about our person.

But, as an experienced conference-goer of many years' standing, I'm more interested in the techniques of those who share their wisdom with the assembled hordes.

Speakers fall into a number of categories.

One, easily recognisable, is known affectionately as Instant Mogadon.

A constant drone comes in a seamless stream from their mouths, which causes members of the audience to fall into conversation with their neighbour.

The opposite of this category is Instant Headache.

Microphones have been with us for a very long time but there is still a feeling among certain speakers that they are unreliable.

The Bellower has a built-in distrust of them and tries to out-do them by yelling.

Of course, microphones do work (at least on occasion) and the speaker's words fly around the hall, meeting themselves coming back, making understanding some interesting matter impossible.

A gentle reminder from the chair meets with a steely eye and a determination to beat the electronic wizardry at all costs.

Then there is The Mutterer. With a touching confidence in the equipment, but rather less in themselves, they regard the microphone as some kind of magic brain scanner, capable of marshalling thoughts into the clear, bell-like tones which can be heard inside their head but do not seem to be issuing from the mouth.

Even the two front rows bring out their ear trumpets while those at the back of the hall start their own conference.

Then there is the Lesser Microphone Tapper, which gives the technician a nasty headache and the Greater Head Swiveller whose head is always pointing in the opposite direction to the microphone.

Overhead slides can bring problems too. There should be no excuse in these days of computerised production but there is usually at least one Luddite among the speakers and his handwriting resembles a drunken spider after a night on the tiles.

The Note Dropper and the Note Rustler can also be spotted by seasoned conference goers, leaving a trail of havoc in their wake as they lose their sense of direction.

Now I know YOUR conference would never field a crew like those I have mentioned but I can assure you they are alive and well and driving audiences mad on a worldwide scale. But it makes one very aware of how hard it is to be a good communicator and how lucky we are when a speaker shares their knowledge in a way that keeps us not only awake but wanting more.

I have one more conference to go to this season and I shall be on the look-out for any of the above offenders.

My hope is that there will be nothing but splendid clarity of vision and speech, but my experience tells me otherwise.