The great parliamentary sketchwriter Quentin Letts, the Henry Lucy of our day, has described Sir Graham Brady (now Lord Brady) thus: ‘Were he a yacht, his galley would gleam, the decks would be scrubbed daily and there would be a large brass bell to summon matelots to morning parade. Commodore Brady runs a tight ship.’ After 27 years in the Commons, 14 of them as Chair of the 1922 Committee, the commodore has swapped his deck garb for ermine and written a kiss-and-tell about his political encounters with five Tory prime ministers.
The 1922 Committee – the fabled men in grey suits who represent the parliamentary party’s backbenchers – is ‘the closest thing the Conservative party has to its own trade union’. During Brady’s tenure it gained a degree of national fame, due to its rather too regular need to preside over the defenestration of Conservative leaders. Brady oversaw no fewer than four transitions (an all-time record), giving him a choice porthole onto a period of unique choppiness.
His perspective is that of a particular type of upwardly mobile Tory – the bright grammar school boy. Born in Lancashire to warring parents and raised in a ‘relentlessly horrible atmosphere’ (he describes witnessing his abused mother running at his father with a carving fork, shouting ‘Shitty hell’) through hard graft he became deputy head boy, chairman of Durham University Conservative Association, and MP for his home seat by the age of 29. His outlook is traditional, self-reliant, meritocratic; that of an all-round decent upright chap who, in 2007, banjanxed his front-bench career by resigning over David Cameron’s opposition to grammar schools.
That rebellion earned him spurs enough for his Conservative colleagues to choose him as Chair of the 1922 at the unusually tender age of 43 – an election that Team Cameron attempted first to spike, by seeking to reform the Committee so that ministers could vote (i.e. interfere), and then override by offering Brady a role in the Foreign Office as minister of state for ‘a very long way away’ (both attempts failed). It is consequently possible to detect a hint of animosity towards his Old Etonian leader in phrases such as: ‘What a complete arse.’ He portrays Cameron as ‘dripping with complacency’, uncomfortable with the right wing of his party and visibly concerned, in 2015, at the prospect of winning an overall majority and being deprived of his partnership with the Lib Dems.
As Chair of the 1922 one might reasonably expect to have one’s counsel sought by Tory leaders; but too often during his term Brady finds himself merely being handled. The book opens with an incident from Boris Johnson’s days, in which the notes of a senior adviser to the PM were photographed by the press outside Downing Street. Titled ‘Meeting with Sir Graham Brady’, it read:
Graham… has asked for a catch-up. It is important that at least the Chief stays in the room… he will seek more regular meetings… don’t agree to anything.
Brady believes that this was one of many memos to five different PMs ‘warning about the apparent danger of meeting me’ – though in truth it really reveals the political centre’s longstanding terror of not knowing what the principal is saying (or promising).
When things were truly bad, leaders could no more avoid Brady than mortals can the Grim Reaper. In modern times a vote of confidence can be triggered if 15 per cent of Conservative MPs write to the Chair of the 22 asking for one. The number (and authors) of letters posted is a closely guarded secret and Brady has done historians a service by revealing some details of how many letters he had received by certain dates during the premierships of Theresa May, Johnson, Liz Truss and Rishi Sunak. Sadly (and surprisingly) he does not include the same details for Cameron’s time in office.
Brady’s coverage of the sometimes highly complex events of 2010 to 2024 is entertaining and approachable (and a useful reminder of the details and madnesses of the time). That said, it would be interesting to know what advice, if any, Brady gave the PM on the highly controversial decision to interfere with Owen Paterson’s suspension from the Commons (a critical event in the loss of Johnson’s authority with his colleagues). Equally, one would like to hear more about Brady’s ambitions to be leader. He admits to considering a run in 2019, but one feels (perhaps unfairly) that there was rather more calculation and organisation than appears on the page.
The title will help the book sell – as it deserves to do – but it’s a touch too poetic. Brady made no kings; but he ran the process by which his Conservative colleagues did, and with a poise and professional sangfroid for which they should remain grateful.
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