How the ‘jolly' Commons Speaker became one of Westminster's sharpest operators

Telegraph

3 days ago

Sir Lindsay Hoyle is the face of Parliament. For more than five years, he has run the House of Commons from the gothic splendour of the 13ft Speaker's chair. His public image is one of a bluff, convivial Lancastrian. Ministers and journalists are regularly hosted in his grace and favour house; hotpot tartlet is a party favourite. But his ever-present smile conceals a finely tuned political mind that makes him one of Westminster's sharpest operators.
Recent weeks have demonstrated why that is so important. First there were reports of an exchange with Rachel Reeves that saw the Chancellor weep on camera. Then there was the super injunction over the Afghan data leak. Harriet Harman, Sir Lindsay's old rival for the Speakership, suggested he had failed in his duties by not pressuring ministers to tell MPs. 'In the Speaker's chair, all eyes are upon you,' says one Labour veteran.
Having watched his two predecessors leave office in disgrace, Sir Lindsay is determined for the same thing not to happen to him. In the Reeves affair, he was trying to smooth things over after a previous altercation about protocol. In Harman's case, his office hit back firmly, pointing out that Sir Lindsay was bound by a super injunction. Publicly robust; privately conciliatory. It is that awareness of the unwritten rules of political discourse which explains Sir Lindsay's prominence in Parliament.
His Speakership is the culmination of a lifetime's work. Sir Lindsay was quite literally born into the Labour party. His father, Doug, spent 21 years as an MP; Lindsay's first Labour conference was as a baby in 1957. Growing up, he learnt the political craft from his father. While Hoyle Sr made his name in Westminster, his son cut his teeth in Labour's north-west machine. 'The by-ways of Lancashire,' said one ex-MP in 2019, 'are littered with the bodies of those who've underestimated Lindsay.' Seventeen years on, Chorley borough council refined Sir Lindsay's talents. In 1997, his dad retired, and Hoyle Jr, aged 39, entered the Commons.
The 2010 election, in which so many Labour hopes were dashed, proved to be Sir Lindsay's making. Encouraged by friends, he stood for the vacant Deputy Speakership and won. In the words of one colleague, 'The campaign for Speaker began that day.' For nine years, he served as the balm to John Bercow's poison, impressing MPs with his good humour and calm demeanour. The Speaker's decision to quit in September 2019 was a godsend for Sir Lindsay. For two decades, he had cultivated his colleagues; it was his friends, rather than the imminent Tory intake who would choose the new Speaker.
'It was decided by those leaving, rather than those joining,' reflects one former MP. Sir Lindsay was regarded as the runaway favourite and courted the electorate accordingly. To Tories, he sympathised about Bercow's politicking; for Labour it was a chance to have one of their own. Sir Lindsay ran as the candidate of experience, promising to protect MPs' security and restore Bercow's office to its former greatness.
During Covid, he won plaudits across the House for his determination to keep the Commons running. His penchant for Urgent Questions made him popular among backbenchers, much to ministers' irritation. 'He runs a permanent campaign,' says one frontbencher. 'We get his regular newsletter and see his stuff online.' Sir Lindsay has a veritable menagerie of pets named after various politicians. His cat, Attlee, boasts its own Instagram account and line of goods in the House of Commons gift shop. He has known tragedy in his family life, too: Sir Lindsay has spoken movingly about the death of his daughter Natalie, aged just 28, in 2017.
Sir Lindsay's worst moment as Speaker came in February 2024. As Labour tore itself apart on Gaza, Sir Lindsay was accused of favouritism by ignoring official advice. During an SNP motion calling for an immediate ceasefire in Gaza, opponents charged that Sir Lindsay had bent parliamentary rules to let an alternative Labour amendment be debated instead. His response to the ensuing outrage showed his skills as a survivor. He apologised, quickly, on the floor of the Commons, offering to meet with parties 'to discuss the way forward'. That ability to admit mistakes and grasp 'the mood of the House' is partly why he has been able to survive the fractious era of post-Brexit politics.
'Lindsay likes to be liked,' says a friend. 'He understands people – how they work, what they think and where they want to be.' His attentiveness to MPs' needs has helped him win unlikely friends too. Within Reform there is praise for how the Speaker has welcomed their new MPs and given them suitable offices in Parliament. Nigel Farage has publicly declared his respect for Sir Lindsay. Where Bercow revelled in conflict, his successor largely eschews it. 'He's always down our end of the tea room,' remarks one Tory.
For such an astute operator, the Speaker does have a blind spot. His taste for the trappings of office has provoked much comment in the press. A string of foreign trips in business or first class ran up a sum of £275,000 in two years; Bercow took 10 years to rack up the same bill for 'non-regular' foreign travel. His accommodation is invariably high-end: the St Regis in Doha, the Westin Grand in the Cayman Islands, and the Ritz-Carlton in Los Angeles. One long-standing colleague suggests that Sir Lindsay's choices are indicative of an Old Labour mindset, namely that 'nothing's too good for the workers'.
There are gifts too, with Sir Lindsay keeping almost 300 presents since 2021 including dozens of bottles of alcohol, hampers, ties, cufflinks and chocolates. No rules have ever been broken, but there are echoes of the 'freebiegate' row that plagued this Government in its first months in office. Sir Lindsay's reputation as being 'pro-MP', means, in the words of one, 'none of us want to make much out of all that'.
The Speaker is unapologetic, insisting that he is merely maintaining the prestige of the office. Aides argue that his post confers an ambassadorial role, requiring him to build links between his office and its equivalents around the world. 'Other Speakers have their own aircraft and travel around the world all the time without criticism,' declared Sir Lindsay earlier this year. He sees himself as an unabashed champion of parliament.
Critics, though, question his mission of 'Speaker-led diplomacy'. They ask whether diplomacy ought not to remain the sole preserve of the elected government. A mis-sent email in January 2024 prompted a public row over whether Sir Lindsay had intended to fly the Palestinian flag from the grandly-named 'Speaker's Flagpoles'. Sir Lindsay denied this was ever his intention. Aiding the Speaker is an expanding team: the head count in the Speaker's office has doubled since he took over.
Yet despite his wobbles, Sir Lindsay seems near-certain to serve out the remainder of his Speakership in this parliament. Already there have been murmurings, sotto voce, about likely contenders. The diary columnists have started tipping Meg Hillier, the Treasury Select Committee chair. Nus Ghani, the current Deputy Speaker, is another seen as 'on manoeuvres'. At 68, Sir Lindsay is yet to name an exit date. But would-be pretenders for his chair could do worse than study his rise to the Speakership and make their plans accordingly. After all, that is what Sir Lindsay would do.