The story behind the James Cleverly leadership speech.
An edited version of this article appeared on Conservative Home.
It was a Wednesday afternoon when my phone rang, I didn’t recognise the number and don’t usually answer unknown numbers. But I answered this one. Fate?
Oliver Legard introduced himself and asked 1. would I be interested in helping James Cleverly prepare for his leadership hustings speech and 2. did I have time.
Questions flew in both directions. Challenges, outcomes, work needed, deadlines. I liked him. That’s important. Finally, I asked him why he was on James‘s team – gig or believer. I liked his answer – that was important too. He took a leap of faith and hired me.
We had spoken for 44 minutes. It was the afternoon of Wednesday, the 18th of September. The speech was on the morning of Wednesday, the 2nd of October. 14 days.
I made my way to James and Susie’s comfy, but not fancy, Lewisham home the next day. James made four mugs of coffee, then his advisers Joe Tetlow and Callum Price arrived. James warned them that we had known each other for years, that I am not the King of Subtle and told them to buckle up for Blunt Botting before we sat down in the comfy dog-friendly lounge and talked.
Crafting a leadership speech, any speech, is a messy process. At the beginning it’s more like hashing than crafting.
James spoke. I asked questions. This went on for three hours. Callum and Joe each typed their versions of the conversation, while fielding questions peppered at them by James. Their combined document was the speech sandpit. Smart guys.
We met next at my place in Westminster with my assistant Declan who argued for a joke to stay. The team was growing. There was less hashing. The speech was taking shape but crafting was still far away. James arrived before his team and unsurprisingly sailed through my “How did they greet the concierge?“ test that some “awfully polite“ (to me) people fail. Another three hours.
Then I was unexpectedly on the train to conference in Birmingham. We met first in an office near the conference centre. The team kept growing. Susie and her smile let me in. I think she is an angel. She stayed for our whole session. She was quiet, but looking and listening hard.
Conference was starting. People were arriving. Rishi and his black secret service limousines and Range Rovers were there. Urgency paced behind Joe and I as we typed and typed. We were a laptop advert. James read lines out loud and made us laugh. Susie observed. Words and phrases were added, deleted, rewritten.
Brandon Hattiloney took photographs. Veteran ops supremo Tom Skinner calmed and anchored us – he silently organised food, listened closely and quietly carved out more and more co-writing and rehearsal time.
Shit was getting real. Fast. Deadlines became big, fast-moving meteorites. Empty spaces in James’s diary were being vaporised.
Then our slot ended, the film emptied and James and Susie went off for the ”arrival at conference” picture. Joe and I went for a meal then I exiled myself to my nearby hotel bedroom and pulled a highly-caffeinated, romantic all-nighter with my Mac, sent Joe my latest version at 06:56, breakfast started at 07:00, then dozed for 90 minutes, before getting the shepherding WhatsApp message from Joe. It was all starting to blur. Then, we met the team on the 24th floor in the Hyatt.
Picture: Brandon Hattiloney
Joe was the Chief Whip for The Speech. No good speech happens without a deadline and an enforcer. He and Callum were also the policy guys – they had other things to do as well as the speech. I was only there for the speech: I was supposed to “make it sing more” and focus the singer on his delivery. No pressure.
But, this leadership campaign was a massive operation of multiple moving parts and I was just a cog in the machinery.
Others were feverishly busy organising rehearsal time, securing rest time for James and Susie, accompanying James and Susie, ensuring prompt exits and (relatively) early conference nights, monitoring the media, courting the media, organising merchandise, managing proxies and volunteers, engaging with candidates/councillors/ MPs, even plotting walk time between locations. Plus a whole lot more that I have no clue about.
Finally, the speech was locked down. We had debated and decided on the opening line and the pause. We had decided against a no-notes walkabout – I was adamant the lectern stayed. This was a serious speech.
Plus, I was convinced the others would want to “do a Cameron” and might not live up to it or just look lost. What I had forgotten was that the Conservative banner would be on the lectern – a plus.
We’d worked on the speech delivery in the Hyatt and rehearsed on the stage. The fireside chat was up next. Then a late night of meetings for James and Susie – but with a thankfully, disciplined, Tom-enforced early-for-conference end for rest. Then, The Day dawned.
Picture: Brandon Hattiloney
We crowded into the Hyatt hotel room. We had decided against James doing the morning media round. The speech was all that mattered. Black coffee. Nerves. Tight laughs. Grins. Countdown.
James reread the speech. Re-whispered it actually. He’d been talking for 14 hours a day for 4 days – his voice needed protecting.
Then he put on his shoes and jacket. Mrs C came in with a stunning, warm, full-length jacket. We went for a photoshoot in the hotel. Then left for the convention centre. Gradually the team left to take their seats. Brandon took the final pics then left. Just us four were left.
Picture: Brandon Hattiloney
The Green Room is only supposed to be for three people. Tom (obviously) had fixed that. James, Tom, Susie and I sat in the Green Room and waited. What is spoken about in the Green Room stays in the Green Room!
N.B. This is not about whether James Cleverly should have won, that’s for others, for history. Or alternate history. This is the story behind the speech with lessons I learnt or relearned that may be useful for others.
Let Bartlet be Bartlet
The best speeches come from real. To do that you have to listen, understand, lean into and maximise the speaker and their style rather than create a new persona. Bespoke vs. Flashsale. Conviction vs. Focus group. Our job was to help James be James. The best James. Funny James, but also serious James. Natural James. Normal James even.
Know thy Audience… But Be YOU
Our multifaceted audience was commentators, the media, members in the hall, members watching on TV, the voting public. And MPs. In the olden days you could get away with saying different things to different audiences. But social media and phones on cameras have made that hypocrisy dangerous. This works for James and made our life as speechwriters easier.
Speakers should be Co-Writers
Tom ring-fenced writing time with James where he repeatedly delivered our drafts and we drafted and edited together. We all co-wrote that speech. Joe, Callum and I, plus feedback and suggestions from the team – plus James, always James. James is naturally funny and the best lines were his. Including the Luton line FYI..
The Best Teams are Believers
This was easily one of the best speech teams I have ever worked on in over 30 years of writing speeches, pitches and presentations for business leaders and politicians. There was no turfiness. No egos. No territorial shit. After some campaigns and speech prep sessions people never speak to each other again. I’d happily go for a beer or three with any of this team. This team were believers not CV-builders.
Stories Sell
Because they’re human and real. Telling stories is the normal way for us to communicate. It’s how we are built and how our brains work and we make decisions. Self-deprecating truth stories beat any BS self-serving claims.
Truth stories sell likeability and credibility. Stories are believed. Claims and lists of data are discounted. James has great personal and career stories that just needed telling. Like his Lewisham, London upbringing and the challenges his small business faced. Those stories are unvarnished and real and they resonate with real people.
We all know about the rollercoaster drama that followed that speech, because of that speech. Alternate history is a fun and favourite film genre.
It was a small but sweet consolation that James and his speech were recognised and won Speech of the Year at the Spectator Parliamentarian of the Year Awards 2024.
I am proud to have been a cog in James‘ team.
