What You See is What You Get

by Sugar, Alan

  ‘No, not at all, Andrew. I just don’t think that welcome was called for. You could have just said a simple hello.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, sure. Honestly, I was only joking.’

  ‘Yeah, well, not one of your better ones, Andrew.’

  It just so happened that Andrew Neil didn’t go near the subject of my appointment in his newspaper review. Neither did the lady who was also there reviewing the newspapers. She had overheard my heated conversation with Andrew, so I imagine she too decided that my appointment was a topic to steer clear of.

  Also present was Lord Mandelson, who was there to discuss the Cabinet reshuffle and defend the policies of the government, who were under a lot of pressure over the recession. I spoke to Peter for a while. He seemed quite distant and he didn’t congratulate me on my appointment. He did, however, pick up on my comments to Sky Television and told me they weren’t very helpful. ‘Just take care, Alan – there are some very clever and hard-working people at the DBIS. Don’t assume they know nothing about business. Make sure you don’t repeat such things today.’

  It would have been nice if Mandelson could have given me a few hints and tips on what to say, but he shot off to a separate room. I realise now that he was preparing himself for a very tough, in-depth interview with Andrew Marr. Understandably, he wasn’t interested in me at all – he needed to psych himself up.

  Andrew Marr seemed a nice fellow from what I’d seen in previous broadcasts and, indeed, he turned out to be a reasonable chap. He asked me lots of questions about my new role and I explained as best as I could what I thought I would be doing, but I was conscious that most people were focusing on my new position conflicting with my role on The Apprentice. I was eager to deal with that issue and, sure enough, it came up. At this point, I did a classic Alan Sugar. I wasn’t bothered that the programme was going out live – in fact, I was delighted it was live because I knew that as long as I didn’t swear or rant, they couldn’t edit me out.

  I said to Andrew, ‘I don’t know who this Jeremy Hunt fellow is, or what his game is, but I’m absolutely amazed from what I’ve seen in the national newspapers, both today’s and yesterday’s, that this story has attracted so much interest. Why are the Conservatives so worried about me? I’m just somebody who’s going to advise the government on small- to medium-sized enterprises. Why are they focusing their attention on me and winding the media up? Why are they winding you up, Andrew, about all this stuff? What’s the big deal?’

  ‘Well, do you not think there’s a conflict of interests in that the BBC has given you a programme and now you are going to be a government adviser?’

  I reminded him, ‘In the five years I’ve been on The Apprentice, there has never been anything in the programme which has had anything at all to do with political matters. We discuss people buying too many chickens or not selling enough flowers – nothing to do with politics. I’m sure the viewers are as baffled as I am as to what all this fuss is about.’

  I continued, ‘In fact, Andrew, the biggest reality TV show on air is your one! What you do is interrogate people like myself and Gordon Brown and Peter Mandelson, and you fit us into your format. You don’t really care who we are; we’re just contestants – it’s a game for you. If the Labour Party gets voted out next year, you will do the same to Mr Cameron and Mr Hunt. We are nothing to you other than good TV, part of the biggest reality show on earth. Both you and that tubby fellow from Sky, Adam Boulton, stand outside Number 10 and abuse Gordon Brown. Then there’s that ginger bird, Kay Burley, who stands on the green outside Parliament looking for people to wind up – it’s all part of a big charade, Andrew. In fact, what you do is no different to me hosting The Apprentice.’

  He was a bit shocked at that reaction and stumbled on his words. He didn’t know how to argue the point because it was true. It’s cheap television to bring politicians and people like me onto the programme to be provocative and argumentative. You have to really ask whether the interviewer himself has any sincere feelings concerning the arguments he’s putting forward, or whether he’s just being devil’s advocate for the sake of TV sensationalism. That was the point I was making.

  When he asked me whether I’d be taking the whip, I was honest and said to him, Andrew, I have to tell you, this is all new to me. I really don’t know the ramifications of it all yet. It would be wrong for me to answer, but if that’s what the Prime Minister wants me to do, I will investigate it and most probably will be doing it.’

  Then he started rambling on, saying that taking the whip was tantamount to being part of the government, in which case I would be in breach of my BBC contract. I told him – live on TV – that his bosses at the BBC had already approved me taking on this appointment. I was going to be an adviser – simple as that. I reiterated, ‘I won’t be making policies; nor will I be parading myself alongside politicians to imply I’m part of the government. All I’m going to do is feed back to the government what the climate is like in the world of small business. Nothing more, nothing less.’

  Every single day the following week, the Daily Mail ran an article about me and my appointment. They wheeled out everyone they had, journalists and columnists alike. It was non-stop abuse, far more than I’d ever experienced before.

  Now that the media had got their teeth into it and were making a big fuss, the BBC were getting a bit hot under the collar. They were under pressure to comment on whether I was going to be fired from The Apprentice. Typical of the BBC, they held back from passing any comment and requested that I come in for a meeting to discuss things and put down on paper exactly what I’d be doing in this new government assignment. They wanted a written agreement that I wouldn’t be infringing BBC guidelines. I readily agreed to this – there was no way I wanted to compromise the BBC, but neither was I going to let Gordon Brown down.

  I had my meeting with the BBC executives (who were getting themselves into a real tailspin by now) on Wednesday 10 June. I brought Alan Watts along so we could hammer out a list of dos and don’ts to comply with the BBC’s policy. At the meeting, I said that once we’d established the guidelines, I would present them to Number 10, so we’d all be singing from the same hymn sheet. By now, what had started off as an informal discussion with Jana and David had escalated. The BBC brought in some of their lawyers, who were in full protective mode and, as expected, started to throw more spanners into the works.

  The media had engineered a situation whereby either Gordon Brown would have to back down on my appointment or I would have to give up my role at the BBC (or the BBC would have to dump me). I stressed to the BBC that we were being manipulated by the media and that I for one would not be bullied – I have a loyalty to Gordon Brown and a certain loyalty to them. But the whole thing was maddening because it was total nonsense – it shouldn’t have even got to this stage.

  I told them I would be very unhappy if they started invoking clauses in my contract that weren’t applicable. After further serious debate, we came up with a crib sheet of what was considered reasonable for me to do in my role as adviser to the government. Having clarified matters with the BBC, I presented the crib sheet to Shriti and asked her to run it past Gordon and get it cleared.

  I went home that night and told Ann that this was growing into a total nightmare and the simplest thing for me would be to tell Gordon I’d have to give up the idea. Despite the fact that I was very honoured to join the House of Lords and all that stuff, I didn’t need all this aggravation.

  As usual, Ann kind of left it to me. She said, ‘It’s something you’ll have to decide, but to turn down the opportunity of being in the House of Lords is a big thing. Surely you should fight your way through this, to make sure it’s a good situation for everyone.’

  Eventually, after a couple of days’ deliberation and (as I understood) some consultation with Lord Mandelson, Gordon accepted the crib sheet. I don’t think he was a happy bunny, but I’m sure he must have realised that his announcement of my role as Enterprise Champion and my appointm
ent to the House of Lords was something he couldn’t be seen to withdraw. If he thought the media frenzy over the past few days was a nightmare, it would have been nothing compared to the furore had I refused to give up The Apprentice and he’d been forced to backtrack on the whole appointment. So I’m guessing when I say that he agreed reluctantly.

  It seemed I’d sorted out the BBC and Number 10, and I most certainly had not capitulated to any of the pressures from the media. Eventually, the BBC sent out a press release saying, in effect, ‘Sir Alan Sugar, soon to be Lord Sugar, is not going to be removed from his position in The Apprentice. Furthermore, the appointment he accepted as government adviser does not conflict with BBC policies.’

  This was like a red rag to a bull to the Conservatives. The Jeremy Hunt fellow wrote a letter of complaint to the Director-General of the BBC. The letter was answered and his complaints rejected. However, he wasn’t satisfied with the answer, so he formalised his complaint and wrote to the BBC Trust. The Trust took several weeks to deliberate, but upheld the BBC’s executive management decision that I was free to do The Apprentice, though in their summary they recommended to the BBC executives that the programmes I was involved with should not be broadcast during a general election period.

  Meanwhile, Liberal Democrat peer Lord Oakeshott was interviewed by Channel Four News. This guy’s self-appointed purpose in life is to ensure that the right type of person joins the House of Lords and he’s another of these people you have to operate on to surgically remove the microphone from their hands. He said he didn’t think I was a ‘fit and proper person’ for the Lords, that my companies were based in the Channel Islands and were not paying tax and that I was involved in some scandal with a female member of staff who was suing the company for unfair dismissal. In short, I wasn’t a suitable person to be in the House of Lords until these matters were resolved. All a load of bollocks. On another day, Baroness Something-or-other was also interviewed and added her tuppence ha’penny worth. She said she didn’t think I was the right calibre of person, as I didn’t deal with women properly. Another load of rubbish.

  I was furious with this Oakeshott fellow. I had never met the man and he had no right to say these things. I wasn’t going to stand by and let these people slag me off, so I wrote to Oakeshott, telling him he was talking a load of rubbish. I warned him that if he didn’t immediately take back what he’d said publicly, I’d be putting the matter into my solicitor’s hands.

  He thought I was bluffing. He said this slagging off was normal in politics – par for the course. I reminded him that I wasn’t a politician and he had no right to mouth off about me and mislead the media. He wouldn’t back down, so I got Herbert Smith to fire off a letter to him, telling him that unless he retracted the statements he’d made in respect to my companies, I would be taking him to court. He well and truly shitted himself and I’m pleased to say that I made him appoint a firm of lawyers and spend some money in legal fees. Eventually, he wrote me an apology on House of Lords paper. I was planning to put copies of the apology in the pigeon-holes of each of the lords at the House. In the end, I chose not to do that, but it was a useful exercise because word must have got round that I wasn’t going to take any shit from anyone. If anybody had something to say about me, it would have to be fair comment and the truth – the minute they overstepped the mark, I was going to whack them. I wanted there to be no doubt about this in people’s minds.

  Lord Mandelson told me that I shouldn’t be so touchy about these things, as it was typical of the sort of sniping that goes on in the media and from opposition MPs and peers. I said, ‘I don’t care whether you put up with this type of stuff; I don’t have to and, quite honestly, I’ve got the money to employ lawyers to go after these people.’ He conceded that on most occasions when he considered he was defamed, the blocking issue was the cost involved in taking people to court. He simply couldn’t afford to do it, which I suppose is fair enough in his case.

  The House of Lords Appointments Commission duly considered my application and informed me that it had been approved. I now needed to consult with the Garter King of Arms, Sir Peter Gwynn-Jones, and decide what my title would be. My initial thought was that I’d like to be Lord Sugar of Clapton. Sir Peter, who was a really colourful character, said the purpose of calling myself Lord Sugar of Clapton, or Lord Sugar of Hackney, or Lord Sugar of Wherever was really to differentiate me from any other Lord Sugars there might be in the House of Lords, and as I’d be the very first Lord Sugar, I didn’t need to add anything. Despite this, I asked to be known as Lord Sugar of Clapton. He told me it was no problem at all, and that is what I am called today.

  Some interesting trivia emerged. First of all, I was really being made a baron, but I would be referred to as Lord Sugar. This meant that Ann would be a baroness, but would still be known as Lady Sugar. My children, Simon, Daniel and Louise, are entitled to be known as, for example, the Honourable Simon Sugar. Furthermore, my male children’s wives, like Daniel’s Michaela, are also entitled to the Honourable title. Sons-in-law, however, like Louise’s husband Mark Baron, for some reason are not accorded that honour. Mark saw the funny side and said, ‘It doesn’t bother me – I’m already a Baron.’

  My introduction to the House of Lords was quite an interesting voyage. It meant meeting people like Michael Pownall, the chief clerk, who briefed me on all the rules and regulations. He also asked me about expenses and whether I’d be taking them. I told him, ‘Absolutely not!’ I viewed this as entering a hornets’ nest. I certainly didn’t need the money, I had no real expenses to claim and, even if I did, I could imagine the scrutiny it would attract. He explained that I was entitled to an attendance fee every time I was at the Lords, but I could picture the scenario where I’d pop in briefly (as I often do, to meet someone), then have some media sniper picking up on the fact that the clerk had logged me in for the whole day and I was claiming taxpayers’ money when I was only there for ten minutes . . . No, thank you very much! There was no way I was going to be exposed to that.

  I also met the Chief Whip and a few other people who piled me up with loads of books and documents about the things you do and things you don’t do. Finally, I met the Speaker of the House, Baroness Hayman, who repeated all the dos and don’ts and gave me another pile of books. This was reminiscent of my flying examinations – I remember ploughing through loads of books about air law and all that stuff. Here I was again, at the age of sixty-two, having to study. I had no choice, as there’s nothing worse than walking into a chamber full of these elite people and putting your foot in it.

  Black Rod, Sir Freddie Viggers, was another great character and a very nice fellow. However, he really put the wind up me about the ennoblement ceremony. He explained in detail exactly where you walk, where you stand, when you have to bow, what you have to say, whose hand you have to shake. When someone explains it so intently, you start to worry that because it’s such an awesome thing, you might fluff it or do something wrong.

  The ennoblement was on 20 July 2009. I took the opportunity of inviting the whole family and some friends to lunch at the House of Lords’ River Restaurant and then to watch me being sworn in. I’d have to dress up in ceremonial robes and be sponsored by two other peers, Baroness Vadera and Lord Davis, who would walk me into the chamber. I would read out my pledge to the House, then leave the chamber after shaking the hand of the Lady Speaker.

  At the lunch, my grandson Nathan, then sixteen, proposed a toast to the Queen and Nick Hewer, as usual, made a little speech. When I stood up to speak to my family and friends, I was overcome with the moment and started to feel a bit emotional, thinking of my mum and dad. I mentioned that it was a shame they weren’t there and that was nearly enough to bring a tear to my eyes again.

  My brother-in-law Harold Regal, with a mischievous glint in his eye, couldn’t resist saying, ‘Not bad, Alan – better than being a dustman, I guess.’ It was the last time I heard Harold’s lifelong joke about me being a dustman, as sadly he had bee
n diagnosed with terminal cancer earlier in the year and he passed away a few months later.

  In between hosting the lunch and dressing up in my robes, I arranged for photographs to be taken with me and the family. Louise told me that when we went into the chamber to have photographs taken with my robes on, Derek was very touched, seeing his little brother standing there in the House of Lords, all dressed up.

  Then it was time for the ceremony and most of my guests were escorted to the gallery to watch it. Ann, being a new peer’s wife, was allowed to go into the main chamber. We had arranged wheelchairs for Harold and my father-in-law Johnnie, who by now, at the age of eighty-seven, was becoming frail. They were positioned at the entrance of the chamber, watching as the very formal procession of me and the others passed by. What with being wound up by Black Rod, I was nervous and didn’t know what to expect. When I glimpsed these two men, who had known me for so many years, out of the corner of my eye as we turned into the grand entrance of the main chamber, again my life kind of flashed in front of me and I started to choke up a bit. As I walked by, Johnnie called out, ‘Good luck, Alan.’ He kind of looked me up and down in my robes and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say it was a look that said, All right, you’ve made your point – you are good enough for my daughter.’

  In the end, the ceremony, which lasted no more than five minutes, was a piece of cake and I ended up wondering what all the fuss was about. It was very simple. I walked in, watched the Garter drop his baton, moved round, read out my piece and followed the Garter out with my two sponsors, and that was it – no big deal. The introduction of a new peer is always dealt with at the start of a sitting in the Lords and is conducted rather swiftly, so that the main business of the day can get underway.

  Once the ceremony was over, to consummate the fact that I was now a member of the House of Lords, protocol dictated that I had to de-robe, then come back into the chamber and sit down on the benches to listen to ten minutes or so of the debate. I was then able to go out again and meet the family and friends to wish them farewell. Ann and I went straight from the House of Lords to Stansted airport, as we were flying to Spain for a couple of weeks’ holiday.