I am what you could call a true Labour Babe. Born in 1997, when things could only get better, I have known and experienced the benefits of a strong and united Labour Party. Alas, how times change.  Fast-forward to 2016, and my beloved party seems destined for years – decades perhaps – to be on the political side-lines; and it breaks my heart.

This time of year often heralds a change in the political atmosphere of the country – a shift in gear and a chance for major parties to reinvent themselves as credible, electable and on the side of the people. Allegedly.

Yet, as I look back over the Labour Party's conference and compare it with the Conservatives' sleek (well, sleek-ish) performance this week, it could be said that such themes were not easily identifiable on Merseyside. Instead, we seemed wounded, bloodied, bruised, hopeless. (Yeah, a bit melodramatic here, but you catch my drift.)

I turned down the offer to attend the week-long Labour extravaganza – partly because I didn't fancy actually meeting those who had been trolling me on Twitter for using the Saving Labour hashtag, and partly because I was yet to pack for university...

I instead opted to watch the drama unfold online from the comfort of my own bed. (Who needs to confront Corbynites, when you could eat biscuits in your pyjamas and procrastinate about your life choices instead?) I don't think I would have been able to watch Jezza's second coronation without prolonged mournful wailing or violently puking in the conference hall – and that would have been unpleasant for everybody involved.

In retrospect, I think I made a wise choice. A friend of mine, a fellow young member who plucked up the courage to address the hall, was heckled and booed, simply for expressing his own opinion. The fact that this happened to a young member perhaps exemplifies the sad state of the party. So much for gentler, kinder politics, eh?

Not wanting to miss out on the action, I spent my week gaining insight into the bizarre online world of the Corbynite. (Well, of some very dedicated Corbinytes.) For example... The Knitted Jeremy. I shall explain. Some very committed supporters have taken to hand-crafting their own knitted JCs, retailing for around £40.

At first I thought the idea was just eccentric, but the more I studied those gnarled and knobbly little Jeremy faces, the more uncomfortable I became with the notion of glorifying and exalting one man – echoes of Dear Leader anyone?

The fervour Jeremy-supporters feel for their leader is often, from my experience, passionate, euphoric, devoid of reasoning and based entirely on the line: 'he is a principled man'. This drunken love means proving his principled nature is simply unnecessary. Instead it is accepted as gospel and not questioned, perhaps for fear of it being disproved? Corbyn's every action is seen as near-divine.

Speaking of Gospel... If Baby Jeremy just ain't your thing, fear not, for the Jezza crew also offer nifty Jesus (or should I say JEZus) T-shirts. Alternatively, why not pick up a copy of Poems For Jeremy, for just £10? A handy book full of poetry dedicated to your main man and inspired by the heart-warming friendships of Jeremy, John, Diane, Paul, Seumas, Len and Jon: the modern-day Secret Seven. Not available in any good bookshops near you.

What is most unsettling about this constant veneration, however, is the way in which it blatantly contradicts the Labour Party's emphasis on the common endeavour. This sustained glorification of one individual as the country's 'saviour' is not only disconcerting, but potentially dangerous.

I do not believe that Jeremy is a bad man, but he (and his cronies) are stubborn, and seem hell-bent on grasping onto any form of power for as long as possible, regardless of the consequences. The way in which they influence and command the attention of their supporters can easily be viewed as indoctrination.

For example, take the creation of Momentum Kids – a political group for children, with activities ranging from placard-making to reciting the 'Teddy Bear Pledge'. Who knows, they may even get a free knitted Jeremy on registration.

Person-centred politics is not, of course, exclusive to the UK. Corbyn was recently compelled to deny the similarities between himself and Donald Trump's rise to (hopefully not) power. But in an era of increasing populism, it is evident that supposed non-Establishment figures are capable of courting the support of the apathetic voter.

Although this, in itself, is not disastrous, it is capable of creating a toxic political climate, where hatred is legitimised as a means of defending one's precious leader. This is not how the Labour Party will win a general election.

Both the 2015 General Election and the EU referendum results demonstrated the demons and challenges that the Labour Party face in order to re-build itself as a government in waiting. From winning back the support of its core-voters (many of whom vehemently supported the Leave campaign), to reaching out to the liberal-leaning middle-class, the obstacles facing the party appear seismic, with the old 'Labour heartlands' becoming something of an urban myth.

Yet the party conference exemplified the lack of coordinated planning or desire to solve these issues. Instead, Momentum profited from the sale of Jeremy-inspired merchandise, and the Tories laughed at the thought of indefinite rule.

Moving forward, I sincerely hope the Labour Party can rebuild itself to competency and return its attention to what really matters: being in a position to help those in need. For as long as the Secret Seven are at the helm of the party, the future looks bleak.

I am, however, hopeful that the Famous Five – Yvette, Hilary, Tom, Chuka and David M (be still, my beating heart) – will soon swoop down with lashings of ginger beer and a plan of action jam-packed (not ram-packed) with derring-do.

Until that day, this Labour Babe will continue to fight for what she believes in, even if that means being brave and standing up to the Twitter trolls.