What You See Is What You Get: My Autobiography (107 page)

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 appointment 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.