The new book from Liz Truss was released today (Picture: Leon Neal/Getty Images)
I’ve just finished reading the new book Ten Years to Save the West.
Cool title, right? It could be a James Patterson thriller about a Russian nuclear threat, or some old cowboy pulp novel.
But no – it’s the latest offering from South West Norfolk MP Liz Truss. You may remember her from her role as PM during that two-month period in 2022 when the Queen died and the economy almost collapsed.
The author spends a lot of time waxing lyrical about the state of the UK and apportioning blame to everyone but herself for her truncated time in Downing Street.
She writes ‘woke’ 19 times, ‘monkey tennis’ once, and never mentions the word ‘lettuce’ at all.
We’re treated to her thoughts on John Lennon (‘my favourite Beatle, although he was clearly a lefty’), Larry the cat (‘a lovely character’) and solar farms (‘I hate them’).
However, that’s not all the book contains. There are also a ton of banal anecdotes taken from her decade climbing up the ministerial ladder: anecdotes so dull, you’re left wondering if she ever actually served as a major world leader.
To be fair, it is astonishingly easy to forget.
Without any further ado, here are some of the top mundane stories told by Liz Truss in her book.
Line of Duty
Jesus, Mary and Joseph and the wee donkey (Picture: BBC/World Productions/Steffan Hill)
Imagine, if you will, former PM Liz Truss doing her best impersonation of Northern Irish actor Adrian Dunbar, in character as Superintendent Ted Hastings from Line of Duty.
Struggling? Well, the team behind her campaign to become Tory leader in summer 2022 don’t need to imagine it. They can just remember it.
The following scene takes place just after Liz has returned from a G20 ministers’ meeting in Bali, where she found out Boris Johnson had resigned.
I gave the team assembled at my house in Greenwich a pep talk. Misquoting Superintendent Hastings from the BBC police drama Line of Duty, I said, ‘There’s only one thing we care about and that’s Tory MPs.’ (Hastings, of course, only cares about ‘bent coppers’.)
Biden blunder
Brigitte Macron, left, and Jill Biden, right… we think (Picture: Reuters)
During her 49 days as prime minister, Liz had a great time swapping ideas with decision-makers from around the world.
But this diplomacy also came with its fair share of awkward moments, such as at the UN General Assembly in September 2022.
In this very funny and self-deprecating anecdote, she mistakes the 69-year-old blonde first lady of France for the 71-year-old blonde first lady of the US.
But don’t worry – absolutely nothing notable happened as a result.
Across the room I saw a blonde lady I recognised. I called out ‘Hi, Dr Biden!’ to the woman I believed was the US First Lady. As she got closer, I realised it wasn’t her at all, but French President Macron’s wife, Brigitte. I hope she didn’t hear!
Claire’s Accessories
Clip-ons are much less bother (Picture: John Keeble/Getty Images)
At the Tory leader debates that followed Boris Johnson’s resignation, Liz got a hefty amount of stick for coming across a bit stilted.
She reveals that things got a little better after her future chancellor Kwasi Kwarteng suggested she drinks half a glass of wine before going in front of the cameras.
Nevertheless, some people insisted on pointing out her choice of jewellery.
One topic that came up was the fact that I get my earrings at Claire’s Accessories, the budget high street jewellery shop beloved of teenagers. This was interpreted as an attempt by me to be a woman of the people. In fact, it’s simply because I hate the idea of getting my ears pierced and Claire’s sells clip-ons!
Clough luck
Liz managed to hold onto her job for a little longer than Brian Clough (Picture: PA)
Bizarrely, the climax of the book – Liz’s description of the moment she handed in her resignation as PM – features a short digression about legendary football manager Brian Clough.
Clough, she explains, took over at her childhood local team Leeds United in 1974, and spent a famously fiery 44 days in charge before being sacked.
Her own tenure was not all that different, Liz argues.
In the final days of my premiership, I had said to my private secretary, Nick Catsaras: ‘If the Conservative Party bin me after six weeks and I’m the Brian Clough of prime ministers, then so be it.’ I lasted forty-nine days.
Japanese cheese
Feel sorry for the Japanese who had to miss out on this stuff (Picture: Alamy Stock Photo)
One of the biggest revelations to come from Ten Days to Save the West is that Liz has a running joke with Japanese diplomats centring on Stilton cheese.
It stems back to talks with the country’s foreign minister Toshimitsu Motegi during her time as international trade secretary in August 2020.
Japan’s blue cheese quota was a sticking point, but the pair managed to find a solution which would ensure British exporters access.
To celebrate, Liz brought Motegi a pot of Stilton when she travelled to Tokyo to sign the agreement – and this silly bit of fun went down so well, she brought it up with the PM a full two years later.
I had a sushi lunch with Prime Minister Fumio Kishida of Japan, where the legend of the blue Stilton was once again reflected on.
Election troubles
The MP for South West Norfolk in happier times (Picture: PA)
Liz Truss had a rough 2017 election, and not just because the Tories unexpectedly lost their overall majority and were forced to rely on a confidence-and-supply deal with the DUP to stay in power.
It turns out the then-justice secretary (though she was sacked not long afterwards) had a bit of an upset stomach on the day.
Her agent had to read her victory speech on stage for her when she won, because she was a little occupied elsewhere.
Meanwhile, I was throwing up in one of the gyms at Lynnsport, the King’s Lynn leisure centre where this exercise in democracy for my voters in South West Norfolk was reaching its conclusion. I then continued to be sick all the way from Norfolk to London.
Raabed up the wrong way
Karate black belt Dominic Raab had to keep an eye on his protein shakes (Picture: Carl Court/Getty Images)
Dominic Raab doesn’t come up much in Liz’s book, but when he does, it’s quite the cameo.
He was her predecessor as foreign secretary, and was notoriously unhappy about his demotion to justice secretary under Boris Johnson in 2021.
In order to keep him in check, the PM said he could keep using the foreign secretary’s traditional residence at Chevening in Kent.
Liz wasn’t happy about that, so a truly insane compromise was reached in which the two politicians shared the space on a ‘timeshare basis’.
It was like an exalted student flatshare. I’d arrive for the weekend and find protein shakes labelled ‘Raab’ in the fridge. It probably wasn’t necessary. I was unlikely to have taken them.
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