Geeks and hacks, gather round. It's your triennial time to shine – election night, the end of eight weeks of countrywide cavorting.

Around the Canberra press gallery, tips on throwing an election party range from "booze" to "booze" to "don't do it".

But if you're intent on offering up your lounge room, you want the vibe of "the sweetest victory of all", not Don's Party.

Here's how.

Ground rules

Any seasoned political nerd will tell you it's the bane of their election night: the people who, despite their presence, don't really care. They're the ones blithely ignoring key seat declarations and loudly talking over concession speeches.

So it's best to set some ground rules if you think your party will attract blow-ins. First: the television is Ground Zero, and its surrounds are a sanctuary. If you want to talk footy, go outside.

Second: the host runs the show. Pick a TV station and stick to it: nobody wants to miss the big announcement because someone was channel-surfing or you lost the remote.

Finally: keep it civil. It's perhaps the one party of the year where you're supposed to bring up politics and religion, but nobody needs to go home with a bloody nose.

The mood

Depending on the company you keep, your election party could be a celebration or a commiseration. Prepare for the worst, and hope for the best. If things turn sour, take comfort in small victories.

You might like to lighten the tone with a relaxed afternoon barbecue as the polls close. Old factional enemies can fight it out over a snag, while Uncle Bob reminisces about John Howard, VB in hand.

Spruce up the joint with some colourful campaign posters, nicked from the front lawns of your neighbours or local school. Even better if you've got old ones of Mark Latham lurking in the garage.

The catering

Kevin Rudd may have told supporters to celebrate with a cup of tea and an Iced Vovo, but for normal people, that simply won't suffice.

It's difficult to over-order on the alcohol front, given the emotional drama at play. If you're feeling kitsch, grab some blue Curacao for the Tories, grenadine for the Labor luvvies and a bottle of Midori for the Greens.

If your guests are anything like the pollies, their staffers or the journos, they'll feel more at home with junk food than hors d'oeuvres. Think cheap pizzas, party pies, crisps and lollies – essentially you're catering an 18th birthday.

Best to offer some vegetarian options, too, especially if you've invited any Animal Justice Party supporters.

The music

Labor supporters are spoilt for choice musically, with the back catalogues of Midnight Oil, Paul Kelly and Bruce Springsteen practically mandatory. Towards the end of the night, someone will inevitably start a round of Solidarity Forever (or perhaps L'Internationale).

Conservatives could consult the musical stylings favoured by George Brandis's National Program for Excellence in the Arts, such as opera, baroque or perhaps God Save the Queen.

Then there are the perennial election night favourites: The Winner Takes It All, We Didn't Start the Fire or, for the True Believers, the entire soundtrack of Keating! The Musical.

Party games

Believe it or not, someone has actually made a board game based on parliamentary question time. Many answers relate to obscure Australian treasurers from the 1930s, and it would entertain only the most tragic of political nerds, but it does exist.

A pinata adorned with pictures of your least-loved pollies is always a hoot – don't forget the cricket bats.

Otherwise, in the great Aussie tradition, games should involve consistent drinking. Guests may like to take a drink for every seat their favoured party secures – better to stick with the two majors on this one.

Triggers to imbibe also include: any mention of "jobs and growth", someone sheds tears during a concession speech, a rowdy pub-goer interrupts a live TV cross, a minister or shadow minister loses their seat, or whenever you despair for the country's future.

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