Latest news with #BritishAsians
Daily Mail
3 days ago
- Daily Mail
EXCLUSIVE How a solo trip to India changed everything for me - and it was much cheaper than a holiday to Spain
British tourists heading to Spain spend an average of £913 on a week-long summer holiday, according to recent travel data. But my five-day solo trip to Amritsar, in northern India, cost less than that - including flights - and gave me luxury accommodation, unforgettable cultural experiences and a personal connection to my heritage that no beach break could rival. Like many British Asians, I grew up hearing the phrase 'back home' thrown around by older relatives. But, after spending decades travelling to India, especially with my children in tow, I found India overwhelming. Amritsar, in particular, felt dusty, disorganised and frankly disappointing. With over a billion people calling the country home, its major cities are often congested and chaotic, especially if you stick to the main tourist routes. Throw a couple of overtired kids into the mix and it becomes less spiritual awakening, more stress overload. On one visit, I remember stepping off the plane and being hit by a wall of heat, noise and movement. From the moment we left the airport, it felt like total sensory overload. The roads were packed, rickshaws darting between cars, endless honking and motorbikes carrying entire families with no helmets in sight. I vividly remember watching a cow meander through the middle of a roundabout while two buses hurtled past on either side, barely missing each other. The air felt dusty, the pavements were crowded and the power kept cutting out in our hotel. I was constantly on edge, worrying about crossing the street, where to find clean toilets and it felt like I was in survival mode the whole time. The hotel was far from everything, the power cut out almost daily and we were constantly warned about scams, pickpockets, or drinking the wrong water. I couldn't hear myself think and just wanted five minutes of calm. By the end of it, I wasn't just tired, I was totally put off. What was supposed to be an enjoyable trip back 'home' felt like stress in 40-degree heat. I didn't swear I'd never go back, but I definitely didn't plan to. As much as I loved India and being with my family, it did get a sense of dread for the inevitable chaos. So when I found myself booking a spontaneous solo trip to Amritsar, I had one aim: to reconnect with my Punjabi roots on my own terms. No expectations. Just me and a direct flight from Gatwick. I didn't anticipate that five days in northern India without a big itinerary, or blowing the budget, would completely reshape how I saw my heritage. And I certainly didn't expect it to cost less than a holiday in Spain. Let's get the long-haul elephant out of the room. Flying to India isn't quick. But my return flight with Air India from Gatwick to Amritsar cost £560 and was direct, which made all the difference. The airline is no-frills, but it got the job done and now there are direct options from Birmingham, or you can fly via Delhi or Mumbai if you're hunting for deals. When I was guided to my room, I was amazed. I knew it would be nice, but I didn't expect a stunning suite with a four-poster bed, my own cinema room and a dining area Once you're there, it's another story: the exchange rate works in your favour and you'll be amazed how far your money goes. I didn't once feel like I was scrimping and still came in under that all-important average of £913. This time, I avoided the big hotel chains and booked a boutique guesthouse called Victorian Elegance and the name didn't disappoint. For just £41 per night, I arrived to a welcoming committee, who greeted me with a tilak, a mark on the forehead. When I was guided to my room, I was amazed. I knew it would be nice, but I didn't expect a stunning suite with a four-poster bed, my own cinema room and a dining area. Outside, there was a courtyard where breakfast was served each morning. The décor was regal, the food was fresh and local and the hosts treated me like royalty. Every morning, they laid out a a traditional Amritsari breakfast banquet in the courtyard, under the rising Punjab sun. What made it special, though, wasn't just the luxury touches. It was the fact I felt safe. As a woman travelling solo, I was cautious, but never afraid. The hosts helped arrange transport, gave recommendations and made sure I had everything I needed. It was like having my own little support team, but without the group tour vibe. It was a world away from my many decades of trips to India. This time, I wasn't rushed or overwhelmed. I was in control and I loved it. As a side note, Apps like Uber and Ola (India's version of Uber) work seamlessly, and most drivers speak a little English, enough to get you on your way. Hotels and guesthouses are used to catering to solo and foreign travellers, especially in cities like Amritsar. No trip to Amritsar is complete without visiting the Sri Harmandir Sahib, better known as the Golden Temple. For me, as a devout Sikh, it's a spiritual pilgrimage. But you don't need to be religious to be moved. The gold-plated architecture shimmers under the sun, surrounded by holy water you can bathe in and a community kitchen, the Langar, who make and serve over 100,000 free meals every single day. The meals are for everyone, with fresh, hand rolled baked bread, dhal cooked in huge pots, which you can help make with them. I cry every time I go. And going alone gave me the space to soak in the experience without distraction. It's dubbed by many as the 'most peaceful place on Earth' and I have to say I agree. It's humbling, healing and powerful. Everyone is welcome, regardless of faith, gender or background. Both men and women are expected to cover their heads, as with any Sikh temple, but they provide clean coverings for you, if you don't have one or if you're unsure. You remove your shoes and wash your feet and hands, before entering. You then walk through the rest of the Temple barefoot, while your shoes are left at the entrance and are cleaned for you. The Temple is immaculate, thanks to the dedicated volunteers who work around the clock to maintain and keep it clean. Visitors are also welcome to chip in and help out. I've seen many young travellers on TikTok, with brushes and brooms, helping out. If you want a crash course in Punjabi culture, head straight to Sadda Pind. It's a recreated village experience that immerses you in the old-world charm of rural Punjab. For just 850 rupees (about £7), I spent the day making roti on clay ovens, watching folk dancers perform Bhangra and gidda and trying my hand at weaving, pottery and even traditional wedding rituals. You can meet the village blacksmith, spin thread at the charkha and sip on sweet lassi made the old-fashioned way. It's Instagram gold, but also deeply educational and interactive. And, unlike the sanitised tourist traps elsewhere, this feels authentic and alive. When it comes to food, I'm a stickler for variety, and Amritsar didn't disappoint. Yes, the Punjabi dishes are rich and flavoursome, but you're not stuck eating curry every night (unless you want to, in which case, you're in heaven.) I find everything from wood-fired pizza for £2 to steaming bowls of momos and Indo-Chinese dishes that cost less than a Pret sandwich. In local restaurants, a family of four can easily eat a full three-course meal. drinks included, for around £12 total. Even in the more upmarket spots, dinner rarely costs more than £25 for four with drinks, and that's if you're splashing out. I know there's often fear-mongering around food hygiene in India, which is understandable because sometimes social media wants to highlight the very worst, but honestly, the restaurants I ate at were spotless. I stuck to well-reviewed places and drank bottled water, the same way I would anywhere unfamiliar and had zero issues. If anything, it was the best food I've had all year, and I didn't even need to queue for a table. One of the most common questions I get, especially from women is: 'But is it safe?' And the truth is, I didn't feel any less safe in Amritsar than I do in London, Paris or Rome. Of course, as women, we're always making little safety calculations, but that's true anywhere. And, what did make a huge difference was staying at Victorian Elegance, where I had a network of local hosts who genuinely looked out for me. While I'd be out, they would call or text to check in and I knew I could call them at any time if I felt unsure or needed help. That kind of personal support goes a long way, especially when travelling solo. Unlike my past visits, where everything felt hectic and family led, this time, I actually saw the city. I wandered around, exploring street art, browsed sari shops and haggled at local markets. And while it's not a beach break, it's an incredible city escape. It's got all the adventure of a far-flung destination with none of the pretense and at a fraction of the price. If you've ever thought India was 'too much', I get it. That's how I felt too. India isn't always easy. It can be loud, it can intense and yes, it can feel chaotic. But go smart, off the beaten path and you'll find something truly magical. I thought I knew what India was. But this time, it showed me something completely different. Amritsar surprised me, soothed me and reminded me that home isn't always where you expect it to be. And honestly? I'd pick it over Barcelona any day.
Leader Live
08-07-2025
- Politics
- Leader Live
Tebbit the Tory hard man who took on the trade unions
To political opponents, the comment – a paraphrase of his exhortation to the unemployed to go out and look for work – encapsulated what they saw as the callous indifference of the Conservatives to the rising joblessness of the 1980s. Once memorably described by Labour's Michael Foot as a 'semi-house-trained polecat', Mr Tebbit revelled in his reputation as a political bruiser as the government drove through its controversial programme of free market reforms. As employment secretary, he piloted key legislation which diluted the power of the trade union 'closed shop' and weakened the unions' immunity from civil damages. He suffered grave injuries in the 1984 Brighton bombing, which left his wife, Margaret, paralysed from the neck down and tore a hole in his side which needed regular treatment for years afterwards. Few who saw them would forget the grim TV pictures of the badly wounded Mr Tebbit being eased gingerly out of the rubble of the Grand Hotel after it was ripped apart in a massive IRA blast. However his ordeal did nothing to diminish his appetite for political combat and the man dubbed the 'Chingford skinhead' – a reference to his Essex constituency – returned to Westminster as abrasive and vitriolic as ever. But for all his reputation for thuggishness, he was privately a kindly man who could mix amiably with those whom he bitterly scorned in public. After masterminding Mrs Thatcher's third general election victory in 1987, Mr Tebbit stepped down from the government so that he could spend more time caring for his wife. He nevertheless remained politically active, proving to be a thorn in the side of her successor, John Major, as wrangling over Europe tore the Tories apart in the 1990s. He sparked controversy with his advocacy of the so-called 'cricket test' – suggesting which side British Asians supported in internationals should be seen as an indicator of their true loyalties – leading to accusations of racism. Born on March 29 1931 in Ponders End, Middlesex, Norman Beresford Tebbit was the son of Leonard Tebbit, a pawnbroker, and his wife, Edith. After attending Edmonton County Grammar, he took a job aged 16 as a trainee journalist at The Financial Times, where the requirement for him to join a trade union in order to be employed sowed a determination to break the power of the closed shop. Following national service with the RAF – when he flew Meteor and Vampire jets, narrowly surviving one terrifying crash – he joined the airline BOAC as a long-haul pilot and navigator. His previous unhappy encounter with the unions did not stop him becoming a highly effective official for the pilots' union, Balpa. He entered Parliament in 1970 as Conservative MP for Epping, joining the right-wing Monday Club. When Mrs Thatcher became party leader in 1975, he strongly backed her agenda of free market reforms and curbing the power of the unions which had brought down Edward Heath's Tory government. She in turn encouraged him to harass Labour ministers from the backbenches – he made headlines after accusing Michael Foot of 'pure undiluted fascism' during a heated exchange over closed shops. Following the Tories' general election victory of 1979, she made him a junior trade minister, promoting him to the cabinet as employment secretary two years later. Certainly he was cut from a very different cloth than a previous generation of Conservative ministers – the patrician Harold Macmillan once sniffily remarked: 'Heard a chap on the radio this morning talking with a cockney accent. They tell me he is one of Her Majesty's ministers.' He was, however, tailor-made for Mrs Thatcher, spearheading the government's legislative assault on the power of the unions – who had brought down the last Tory administration of Edward Heath – with his Employment Act. It was following inner city riots in Handsworth and Brixton in 1981 that he made the infamous remark which led to him being dubbed 'Onyerbike'. Rejecting suggestions the violence was a natural response to rising unemployment, he retorted: 'I grew up in the Thirties with an unemployed father. He didn't riot. He got on his bike and looked for work, and he kept looking till he found it.' Such comments fuelled his hardline 'Nasty Norm' reputation – the satirical puppet show Spitting Image memorably portrayed him as a leather-jacketed thug brutally beating up political opponents and fellow ministers alike. For all their political affinity, his relations with Mrs Thatcher did not always run smoothly and he later recalled there were occasions when he left No 10 unsure whether he would still have a job by the time he had returned to his department. 'But I was never frightened of her,' he remembered. 'The most she could do was sack me. I didn't see any point in not standing up to her.' Following the Tories' 1983 general election victory, there was a move to trade and industry but his life was turned upside down the following year when an IRA bomb tore through Brighton's Grand Hotel during the Conservative Party conference. Mrs Thatcher, the main intended target of the attack, escaped unscathed but it took four hours for fire crews to extricate Mr Tebbit and his wife from the wreckage. While Mrs Tebbit was left needing round-the-clock care for the rest of her life, he recovered to return to the political fray with his appetite for confrontation very much intact. The prime minister believed his populist instincts – he was described as the personification of 'Essex man' – made him the ideal candidate to plot her bid for a third term in No 10 and in 1985 she made him Tory Party chairman. She was however reportedly not amused when he urged her to take more of a back seat in campaigning after polling showed her leadership – the so-called 'that bloody woman' factor – was turning off voters. The 1987 general election campaign was marked by rows and tensions within the Tory camp amid suspicions among Mrs Thatcher and some of her allies that Mr Tebbit was more interested in advancing his own leadership ambitions. It culminated on so-called 'wobbly Thursday' with Lord Young – who Mrs Thatcher had installed in No 10 to keep an eye on her chairman – allegedly grabbing Mr Tebbit by the lapels and yelling: 'Norman, listen to me, we are about to lose this f****** election'. Nevertheless, come polling day, the Conservatives were again returned with a three-figure majority and Mr Tebbit appeared at the window of Central Office alongside the prime minister to enjoy the acclaim of the party faithful. It was to be the apogee of his frontline political career, and in the aftermath of victory he announced he was leaving government so he could devote more time to looking after his wife. For all the difficulties of the preceding months, Mrs Thatcher said she 'bitterly regretted' losing a kindred spirit from the cabinet. Having once been seen as her natural successor, it meant giving up any hope of taking the top job, a lost opportunity which, he later acknowledged, was a source of regret for him also. He remained politically active however – particularly on Europe – and, after stepping down as an MP in 1992, he was made a life peer. In the House of Lords, he formed a new alliance with Baroness Thatcher (who had also been ennobled) to oppose the Maastricht Treaty, signed by John Major, which created the modern European Union. That year he brought the Tory party conference to its feet with a rabble-rousing speech condemning the agreement, much to the fury of Mr Major who accused him of hypocrisy and disloyalty. In later years, Lord Tebbit continued to attract controversy with outspoken remarks on a range of issues from immigration to homosexuality. He refused to attend services conducted by the dean of St Edmundsbury Cathedral after he entered into a civil partnership and warned that legislation to allow same-sex marriage passed under David Cameron was alienating the Tory faithful. He was the author of a number of books including The Game Cookbook – featuring his favourite recipes for partridge, grouse, pheasant and the like – which proved to be a surprise hit in 2009. In 2020, his wife, Lady Tebbit, died aged 86. He never forgave the IRA terrorist responsible for her terrible injuries. Lord Tebbit is survived by two sons and a daughter.
South Wales Guardian
08-07-2025
- Politics
- South Wales Guardian
Tebbit the Tory hard man who took on the trade unions
To political opponents, the comment – a paraphrase of his exhortation to the unemployed to go out and look for work – encapsulated what they saw as the callous indifference of the Conservatives to the rising joblessness of the 1980s. Once memorably described by Labour's Michael Foot as a 'semi-house-trained polecat', Mr Tebbit revelled in his reputation as a political bruiser as the government drove through its controversial programme of free market reforms. As employment secretary, he piloted key legislation which diluted the power of the trade union 'closed shop' and weakened the unions' immunity from civil damages. He suffered grave injuries in the 1984 Brighton bombing, which left his wife, Margaret, paralysed from the neck down and tore a hole in his side which needed regular treatment for years afterwards. Few who saw them would forget the grim TV pictures of the badly wounded Mr Tebbit being eased gingerly out of the rubble of the Grand Hotel after it was ripped apart in a massive IRA blast. However his ordeal did nothing to diminish his appetite for political combat and the man dubbed the 'Chingford skinhead' – a reference to his Essex constituency – returned to Westminster as abrasive and vitriolic as ever. But for all his reputation for thuggishness, he was privately a kindly man who could mix amiably with those whom he bitterly scorned in public. After masterminding Mrs Thatcher's third general election victory in 1987, Mr Tebbit stepped down from the government so that he could spend more time caring for his wife. He nevertheless remained politically active, proving to be a thorn in the side of her successor, John Major, as wrangling over Europe tore the Tories apart in the 1990s. He sparked controversy with his advocacy of the so-called 'cricket test' – suggesting which side British Asians supported in internationals should be seen as an indicator of their true loyalties – leading to accusations of racism. Born on March 29 1931 in Ponders End, Middlesex, Norman Beresford Tebbit was the son of Leonard Tebbit, a pawnbroker, and his wife, Edith. After attending Edmonton County Grammar, he took a job aged 16 as a trainee journalist at The Financial Times, where the requirement for him to join a trade union in order to be employed sowed a determination to break the power of the closed shop. Following national service with the RAF – when he flew Meteor and Vampire jets, narrowly surviving one terrifying crash – he joined the airline BOAC as a long-haul pilot and navigator. His previous unhappy encounter with the unions did not stop him becoming a highly effective official for the pilots' union, Balpa. He entered Parliament in 1970 as Conservative MP for Epping, joining the right-wing Monday Club. When Mrs Thatcher became party leader in 1975, he strongly backed her agenda of free market reforms and curbing the power of the unions which had brought down Edward Heath's Tory government. She in turn encouraged him to harass Labour ministers from the backbenches – he made headlines after accusing Michael Foot of 'pure undiluted fascism' during a heated exchange over closed shops. Following the Tories' general election victory of 1979, she made him a junior trade minister, promoting him to the cabinet as employment secretary two years later. Certainly he was cut from a very different cloth than a previous generation of Conservative ministers – the patrician Harold Macmillan once sniffily remarked: 'Heard a chap on the radio this morning talking with a cockney accent. They tell me he is one of Her Majesty's ministers.' He was, however, tailor-made for Mrs Thatcher, spearheading the government's legislative assault on the power of the unions – who had brought down the last Tory administration of Edward Heath – with his Employment Act. It was following inner city riots in Handsworth and Brixton in 1981 that he made the infamous remark which led to him being dubbed 'Onyerbike'. Rejecting suggestions the violence was a natural response to rising unemployment, he retorted: 'I grew up in the Thirties with an unemployed father. He didn't riot. He got on his bike and looked for work, and he kept looking till he found it.' Such comments fuelled his hardline 'Nasty Norm' reputation – the satirical puppet show Spitting Image memorably portrayed him as a leather-jacketed thug brutally beating up political opponents and fellow ministers alike. For all their political affinity, his relations with Mrs Thatcher did not always run smoothly and he later recalled there were occasions when he left No 10 unsure whether he would still have a job by the time he had returned to his department. 'But I was never frightened of her,' he remembered. 'The most she could do was sack me. I didn't see any point in not standing up to her.' Following the Tories' 1983 general election victory, there was a move to trade and industry but his life was turned upside down the following year when an IRA bomb tore through Brighton's Grand Hotel during the Conservative Party conference. Mrs Thatcher, the main intended target of the attack, escaped unscathed but it took four hours for fire crews to extricate Mr Tebbit and his wife from the wreckage. While Mrs Tebbit was left needing round-the-clock care for the rest of her life, he recovered to return to the political fray with his appetite for confrontation very much intact. The prime minister believed his populist instincts – he was described as the personification of 'Essex man' – made him the ideal candidate to plot her bid for a third term in No 10 and in 1985 she made him Tory Party chairman. She was however reportedly not amused when he urged her to take more of a back seat in campaigning after polling showed her leadership – the so-called 'that bloody woman' factor – was turning off voters. The 1987 general election campaign was marked by rows and tensions within the Tory camp amid suspicions among Mrs Thatcher and some of her allies that Mr Tebbit was more interested in advancing his own leadership ambitions. It culminated on so-called 'wobbly Thursday' with Lord Young – who Mrs Thatcher had installed in No 10 to keep an eye on her chairman – allegedly grabbing Mr Tebbit by the lapels and yelling: 'Norman, listen to me, we are about to lose this f****** election'. Nevertheless, come polling day, the Conservatives were again returned with a three-figure majority and Mr Tebbit appeared at the window of Central Office alongside the prime minister to enjoy the acclaim of the party faithful. It was to be the apogee of his frontline political career, and in the aftermath of victory he announced he was leaving government so he could devote more time to looking after his wife. For all the difficulties of the preceding months, Mrs Thatcher said she 'bitterly regretted' losing a kindred spirit from the cabinet. Having once been seen as her natural successor, it meant giving up any hope of taking the top job, a lost opportunity which, he later acknowledged, was a source of regret for him also. He remained politically active however – particularly on Europe – and, after stepping down as an MP in 1992, he was made a life peer. In the House of Lords, he formed a new alliance with Baroness Thatcher (who had also been ennobled) to oppose the Maastricht Treaty, signed by John Major, which created the modern European Union. That year he brought the Tory party conference to its feet with a rabble-rousing speech condemning the agreement, much to the fury of Mr Major who accused him of hypocrisy and disloyalty. In later years, Lord Tebbit continued to attract controversy with outspoken remarks on a range of issues from immigration to homosexuality. He refused to attend services conducted by the dean of St Edmundsbury Cathedral after he entered into a civil partnership and warned that legislation to allow same-sex marriage passed under David Cameron was alienating the Tory faithful. He was the author of a number of books including The Game Cookbook – featuring his favourite recipes for partridge, grouse, pheasant and the like – which proved to be a surprise hit in 2009. In 2020, his wife, Lady Tebbit, died aged 86. He never forgave the IRA terrorist responsible for her terrible injuries. Lord Tebbit is survived by two sons and a daughter.
North Wales Chronicle
08-07-2025
- Politics
- North Wales Chronicle
Tebbit the Tory hard man who took on the trade unions
To political opponents, the comment – a paraphrase of his exhortation to the unemployed to go out and look for work – encapsulated what they saw as the callous indifference of the Conservatives to the rising joblessness of the 1980s. Once memorably described by Labour's Michael Foot as a 'semi-house-trained polecat', Mr Tebbit revelled in his reputation as a political bruiser as the government drove through its controversial programme of free market reforms. As employment secretary, he piloted key legislation which diluted the power of the trade union 'closed shop' and weakened the unions' immunity from civil damages. He suffered grave injuries in the 1984 Brighton bombing, which left his wife, Margaret, paralysed from the neck down and tore a hole in his side which needed regular treatment for years afterwards. Few who saw them would forget the grim TV pictures of the badly wounded Mr Tebbit being eased gingerly out of the rubble of the Grand Hotel after it was ripped apart in a massive IRA blast. However his ordeal did nothing to diminish his appetite for political combat and the man dubbed the 'Chingford skinhead' – a reference to his Essex constituency – returned to Westminster as abrasive and vitriolic as ever. But for all his reputation for thuggishness, he was privately a kindly man who could mix amiably with those whom he bitterly scorned in public. After masterminding Mrs Thatcher's third general election victory in 1987, Mr Tebbit stepped down from the government so that he could spend more time caring for his wife. He nevertheless remained politically active, proving to be a thorn in the side of her successor, John Major, as wrangling over Europe tore the Tories apart in the 1990s. He sparked controversy with his advocacy of the so-called 'cricket test' – suggesting which side British Asians supported in internationals should be seen as an indicator of their true loyalties – leading to accusations of racism. Born on March 29 1931 in Ponders End, Middlesex, Norman Beresford Tebbit was the son of Leonard Tebbit, a pawnbroker, and his wife, Edith. After attending Edmonton County Grammar, he took a job aged 16 as a trainee journalist at The Financial Times, where the requirement for him to join a trade union in order to be employed sowed a determination to break the power of the closed shop. Following national service with the RAF – when he flew Meteor and Vampire jets, narrowly surviving one terrifying crash – he joined the airline BOAC as a long-haul pilot and navigator. His previous unhappy encounter with the unions did not stop him becoming a highly effective official for the pilots' union, Balpa. He entered Parliament in 1970 as Conservative MP for Epping, joining the right-wing Monday Club. When Mrs Thatcher became party leader in 1975, he strongly backed her agenda of free market reforms and curbing the power of the unions which had brought down Edward Heath's Tory government. She in turn encouraged him to harass Labour ministers from the backbenches – he made headlines after accusing Michael Foot of 'pure undiluted fascism' during a heated exchange over closed shops. Following the Tories' general election victory of 1979, she made him a junior trade minister, promoting him to the cabinet as employment secretary two years later. Certainly he was cut from a very different cloth than a previous generation of Conservative ministers – the patrician Harold Macmillan once sniffily remarked: 'Heard a chap on the radio this morning talking with a cockney accent. They tell me he is one of Her Majesty's ministers.' He was, however, tailor-made for Mrs Thatcher, spearheading the government's legislative assault on the power of the unions – who had brought down the last Tory administration of Edward Heath – with his Employment Act. It was following inner city riots in Handsworth and Brixton in 1981 that he made the infamous remark which led to him being dubbed 'Onyerbike'. Rejecting suggestions the violence was a natural response to rising unemployment, he retorted: 'I grew up in the Thirties with an unemployed father. He didn't riot. He got on his bike and looked for work, and he kept looking till he found it.' Such comments fuelled his hardline 'Nasty Norm' reputation – the satirical puppet show Spitting Image memorably portrayed him as a leather-jacketed thug brutally beating up political opponents and fellow ministers alike. For all their political affinity, his relations with Mrs Thatcher did not always run smoothly and he later recalled there were occasions when he left No 10 unsure whether he would still have a job by the time he had returned to his department. 'But I was never frightened of her,' he remembered. 'The most she could do was sack me. I didn't see any point in not standing up to her.' Following the Tories' 1983 general election victory, there was a move to trade and industry but his life was turned upside down the following year when an IRA bomb tore through Brighton's Grand Hotel during the Conservative Party conference. Mrs Thatcher, the main intended target of the attack, escaped unscathed but it took four hours for fire crews to extricate Mr Tebbit and his wife from the wreckage. While Mrs Tebbit was left needing round-the-clock care for the rest of her life, he recovered to return to the political fray with his appetite for confrontation very much intact. The prime minister believed his populist instincts – he was described as the personification of 'Essex man' – made him the ideal candidate to plot her bid for a third term in No 10 and in 1985 she made him Tory Party chairman. She was however reportedly not amused when he urged her to take more of a back seat in campaigning after polling showed her leadership – the so-called 'that bloody woman' factor – was turning off voters. The 1987 general election campaign was marked by rows and tensions within the Tory camp amid suspicions among Mrs Thatcher and some of her allies that Mr Tebbit was more interested in advancing his own leadership ambitions. It culminated on so-called 'wobbly Thursday' with Lord Young – who Mrs Thatcher had installed in No 10 to keep an eye on her chairman – allegedly grabbing Mr Tebbit by the lapels and yelling: 'Norman, listen to me, we are about to lose this f****** election'. Nevertheless, come polling day, the Conservatives were again returned with a three-figure majority and Mr Tebbit appeared at the window of Central Office alongside the prime minister to enjoy the acclaim of the party faithful. It was to be the apogee of his frontline political career, and in the aftermath of victory he announced he was leaving government so he could devote more time to looking after his wife. For all the difficulties of the preceding months, Mrs Thatcher said she 'bitterly regretted' losing a kindred spirit from the cabinet. Having once been seen as her natural successor, it meant giving up any hope of taking the top job, a lost opportunity which, he later acknowledged, was a source of regret for him also. He remained politically active however – particularly on Europe – and, after stepping down as an MP in 1992, he was made a life peer. In the House of Lords, he formed a new alliance with Baroness Thatcher (who had also been ennobled) to oppose the Maastricht Treaty, signed by John Major, which created the modern European Union. That year he brought the Tory party conference to its feet with a rabble-rousing speech condemning the agreement, much to the fury of Mr Major who accused him of hypocrisy and disloyalty. In later years, Lord Tebbit continued to attract controversy with outspoken remarks on a range of issues from immigration to homosexuality. He refused to attend services conducted by the dean of St Edmundsbury Cathedral after he entered into a civil partnership and warned that legislation to allow same-sex marriage passed under David Cameron was alienating the Tory faithful. He was the author of a number of books including The Game Cookbook – featuring his favourite recipes for partridge, grouse, pheasant and the like – which proved to be a surprise hit in 2009. In 2020, his wife, Lady Tebbit, died aged 86. He never forgave the IRA terrorist responsible for her terrible injuries. Lord Tebbit is survived by two sons and a daughter.
South Wales Argus
08-07-2025
- Politics
- South Wales Argus
Tebbit the Tory hard man who took on the trade unions
To political opponents, the comment – a paraphrase of his exhortation to the unemployed to go out and look for work – encapsulated what they saw as the callous indifference of the Conservatives to the rising joblessness of the 1980s. Once memorably described by Labour's Michael Foot as a 'semi-house-trained polecat', Mr Tebbit revelled in his reputation as a political bruiser as the government drove through its controversial programme of free market reforms. As employment secretary, he piloted key legislation which diluted the power of the trade union 'closed shop' and weakened the unions' immunity from civil damages. Lord Tebbit (Philip Toscano/PA) He suffered grave injuries in the 1984 Brighton bombing, which left his wife, Margaret, paralysed from the neck down and tore a hole in his side which needed regular treatment for years afterwards. Few who saw them would forget the grim TV pictures of the badly wounded Mr Tebbit being eased gingerly out of the rubble of the Grand Hotel after it was ripped apart in a massive IRA blast. However his ordeal did nothing to diminish his appetite for political combat and the man dubbed the 'Chingford skinhead' – a reference to his Essex constituency – returned to Westminster as abrasive and vitriolic as ever. But for all his reputation for thuggishness, he was privately a kindly man who could mix amiably with those whom he bitterly scorned in public. After masterminding Mrs Thatcher's third general election victory in 1987, Mr Tebbit stepped down from the government so that he could spend more time caring for his wife. Norman Tebbit at a press conference with Margaret Thatcher (PA) He nevertheless remained politically active, proving to be a thorn in the side of her successor, John Major, as wrangling over Europe tore the Tories apart in the 1990s. He sparked controversy with his advocacy of the so-called 'cricket test' – suggesting which side British Asians supported in internationals should be seen as an indicator of their true loyalties – leading to accusations of racism. Born on March 29 1931 in Ponders End, Middlesex, Norman Beresford Tebbit was the son of Leonard Tebbit, a pawnbroker, and his wife, Edith. After attending Edmonton County Grammar, he took a job aged 16 as a trainee journalist at The Financial Times, where the requirement for him to join a trade union in order to be employed sowed a determination to break the power of the closed shop. Following national service with the RAF – when he flew Meteor and Vampire jets, narrowly surviving one terrifying crash – he joined the airline BOAC as a long-haul pilot and navigator. Margaret Thatcher and Norman Tebbit wave to the crowds from Conservative Central Office following the party's 1987 general election triumph (Rebecca Naden/PA) His previous unhappy encounter with the unions did not stop him becoming a highly effective official for the pilots' union, Balpa. He entered Parliament in 1970 as Conservative MP for Epping, joining the right-wing Monday Club. When Mrs Thatcher became party leader in 1975, he strongly backed her agenda of free market reforms and curbing the power of the unions which had brought down Edward Heath's Tory government. She in turn encouraged him to harass Labour ministers from the backbenches – he made headlines after accusing Michael Foot of 'pure undiluted fascism' during a heated exchange over closed shops. Following the Tories' general election victory of 1979, she made him a junior trade minister, promoting him to the cabinet as employment secretary two years later. Certainly he was cut from a very different cloth than a previous generation of Conservative ministers – the patrician Harold Macmillan once sniffily remarked: 'Heard a chap on the radio this morning talking with a cockney accent. They tell me he is one of Her Majesty's ministers.' He was, however, tailor-made for Mrs Thatcher, spearheading the government's legislative assault on the power of the unions – who had brought down the last Tory administration of Edward Heath – with his Employment Act. John Major looks on as Norman Tebbit tears into the Maastricht Treaty at the 1992 Conservative Party Conference (Adam Butler/PA) It was following inner city riots in Handsworth and Brixton in 1981 that he made the infamous remark which led to him being dubbed 'Onyerbike'. Rejecting suggestions the violence was a natural response to rising unemployment, he retorted: 'I grew up in the Thirties with an unemployed father. He didn't riot. He got on his bike and looked for work, and he kept looking till he found it.' Such comments fuelled his hardline 'Nasty Norm' reputation – the satirical puppet show Spitting Image memorably portrayed him as a leather-jacketed thug brutally beating up political opponents and fellow ministers alike. For all their political affinity, his relations with Mrs Thatcher did not always run smoothly and he later recalled there were occasions when he left No 10 unsure whether he would still have a job by the time he had returned to his department. 'But I was never frightened of her,' he remembered. 'The most she could do was sack me. I didn't see any point in not standing up to her.' Following the Tories' 1983 general election victory, there was a move to trade and industry but his life was turned upside down the following year when an IRA bomb tore through Brighton's Grand Hotel during the Conservative Party conference. Mrs Thatcher, the main intended target of the attack, escaped unscathed but it took four hours for fire crews to extricate Mr Tebbit and his wife from the wreckage. While Mrs Tebbit was left needing round-the-clock care for the rest of her life, he recovered to return to the political fray with his appetite for confrontation very much intact. In the House of Lords, Lord Tebbit pays tribute to Margaret Thatcher following the death of the former prime minister (PA) The prime minister believed his populist instincts – he was described as the personification of 'Essex man' – made him the ideal candidate to plot her bid for a third term in No 10 and in 1985 she made him Tory Party chairman. She was however reportedly not amused when he urged her to take more of a back seat in campaigning after polling showed her leadership – the so-called 'that bloody woman' factor – was turning off voters. The 1987 general election campaign was marked by rows and tensions within the Tory camp amid suspicions among Mrs Thatcher and some of her allies that Mr Tebbit was more interested in advancing his own leadership ambitions. It culminated on so-called 'wobbly Thursday' with Lord Young – who Mrs Thatcher had installed in No 10 to keep an eye on her chairman – allegedly grabbing Mr Tebbit by the lapels and yelling: 'Norman, listen to me, we are about to lose this f****** election'. Nevertheless, come polling day, the Conservatives were again returned with a three-figure majority and Mr Tebbit appeared at the window of Central Office alongside the prime minister to enjoy the acclaim of the party faithful. It was to be the apogee of his frontline political career, and in the aftermath of victory he announced he was leaving government so he could devote more time to looking after his wife. For all the difficulties of the preceding months, Mrs Thatcher said she 'bitterly regretted' losing a kindred spirit from the cabinet. Having once been seen as her natural successor, it meant giving up any hope of taking the top job, a lost opportunity which, he later acknowledged, was a source of regret for him also. He remained politically active however – particularly on Europe – and, after stepping down as an MP in 1992, he was made a life peer. Lord Tebbit and his wife, Margaret, outside the Grand Hotel 25 years after the Brighton bombing (Chris Ison/PA) In the House of Lords, he formed a new alliance with Baroness Thatcher (who had also been ennobled) to oppose the Maastricht Treaty, signed by John Major, which created the modern European Union. That year he brought the Tory party conference to its feet with a rabble-rousing speech condemning the agreement, much to the fury of Mr Major who accused him of hypocrisy and disloyalty. In later years, Lord Tebbit continued to attract controversy with outspoken remarks on a range of issues from immigration to homosexuality. He refused to attend services conducted by the dean of St Edmundsbury Cathedral after he entered into a civil partnership and warned that legislation to allow same-sex marriage passed under David Cameron was alienating the Tory faithful. He was the author of a number of books including The Game Cookbook – featuring his favourite recipes for partridge, grouse, pheasant and the like – which proved to be a surprise hit in 2009. In 2020, his wife, Lady Tebbit, died aged 86. He never forgave the IRA terrorist responsible for her terrible injuries. Lord Tebbit is survived by two sons and a daughter.
