How did you get into journalism?

In some ways, by accident. I had a whole series of non jobs in my 20s and reached a point where I wondered how I could explain the gap in my CV, but I started freelancing. Around this time – 1990 – print journalism was expanding, there were lots of supplements being born, and therefore plenty of work for freelancers. I sent a piece in to the Guardian on spec and it was used in the paper, and things took off from there. I was commissioned by the Independent on Sunday to write for their Education and Society supplement and gradually became a feature within their pages. Then the Guardian gave me a freelance contract, which required me to submit a certain number of words per year, so I had some job security. I started writing for G2 and got to know other Guardian editors, many of whom were kind enough to give me a chance at writing for them.

Do you remember your first day at the Guardian?

Yes, and I vividly recall feeling at home right from the start. I loved the people, and it was a great opportunity to learn the really useful practice of writing to deadlines. In the old days, you would pitch an idea and then have a week or so to write it up, but in the new world we only had a day or two, and it was a really useful discipline to master, because the turnaround for copy has just become faster and faster. At the time that I started, I was also writing for the Evening Standard and I wrote several books in the following years – on football, parenting, politics. In 2000 we created the Digested Read, which I did for 19 years.

Which sketches are you proudest of?

It’s hard to say. Things move so fast. In February 2014 when I took over, there wasn’t a lot going on politically. We all knew the coalition was in trouble, but often proceedings in the house were spectacularly dull. But as journalists we have to be there for all weathers, and in my case, I quite enjoy creating comedy out of boredom. Some weeks it has felt as though I’m trying to create something almost out of nothing, and others it feels as though every day is a major political event. The sketches in a way write themselves, but in many ways the world itself feels quite comedic and satirical at the moment, so I have to up my game.

What’s the secret to a good political sketch?

I work very closely with the lobby team – they give me info and tidbits whenever they can. Andy Sparrow, who writes our politics live blog, is great at helping check back on some of the observations I’ve made that day. But I’m not there to report the facts – we have a very good lobby team to do that. My job is to draw out and portray the psychodrama, the subtext, the meta-politics. I try to work at a conscious level and a subsconscious level, and let events trickle down. It helps to really understand the machinations of Westminster, though – who likes who, who likes what, who are arch rivals … and try to create a dramatic subplot from that. In these “alternative fact” times, the sketch has become more and more a form of truth-telling.

Have you had any response from readers regarding the sketch?

Readers have been overwhelmingly lovely. Initially, when I took over from Simon Hoggart, there was a suspicion of me, and scepticism I could live up to him – he was an institution who had been sketch writer for over 20 years. People have by and large now forgiven me for not being Simon Hoggart and realised I have a different style. Simon’s comedy was more observational, mine is more satire. I think these are times that require satire. On a dull day, it’s an entertaining diversion for readers, but the job of a sketch writer is also to be one of the ones who is holding power to account, and serving a moral purpose. A lot of people feel genuinely angry, misrepresented and disenfranchised right now.

I think readers value the fact that the sketch is equal-opportunities. I focus on the government, but when Labour make arses of themselves, I don’t feel it’s my job to prop them up, spare them or toe the party line. It’s not political or class warfare. A lot of Tory MPs are privately appalled by what is happening.

What have been the biggest challenges of your career?

To be recognised and heard. Initially I was put on articles to fill space in the various sections. There was so much advertising that sometimes there were up to 13 or 14 pages of Education editorial. No one had done the Digested Read before – it was Felicity Lawrence’s idea. She had been editor of a section called Consumer, whose desk was next to mine, and she liked the way I wrote and thought I’d be a great fit. Originally it was just a book a week and a short precis. We had a lot of fun doing parodies of style and a retelling of the book, so that it combined critical review with entertainment and added to the experience of reading the original work itself.

I’ve started referring to Boris Johnson as Mr Blobby because there's something quite cartoonish and absurd about him

I moved to G2 in 2007 and started writing a parody of the week in Westminster, before taking over the sketch from Hoggart. It was absolutely terrifying taking over such a high profile gig. I was suddenly thrown out of the comfort of the office and sent to Westminster to work with a bunch of people I had only ever read in print – it was a steep and terrifying learning curve. 2015 was my first general election – I didn’t know where I was supposed to be, but fortunately my colleagues were hugely helpful. With the sketch, I’m writing for quite a sophisticated audience who know a lot about politics, especially now, when people have become so politicised, and I want to be able to add something to all that. There’s still a lot to learn. When people talk about the Westminster bubble, that’s absolutely spot on. A lot of the people I encounter are semi-detached from the rest of Britain, and even just from the rest of London.

What questions should we be asking the government, and how do you convey those questions in your sketches?

The big question is still Brexit. It has been so dominant in the political agenda, and it can be a struggle to write about the same topic for a long time and keep it interesting. Amid the repetition of the Brexit cycle, I started referring to May as “Maybot” – to describe her style of government and her character, and it was adopted into common parlance at other newspapers and TV channels. I’ve recently started referring to Boris Johnson as Mr Blobby because there’s something quite cartoonish and absurd about him. He is up in arms promising to “deliver Brexit” but there’s absolutely no detail there – we are completely in the dark about how he might do that, so I think we need to keep asking to what extent our politicians are being responsible for their actions. With so many big promises, it is guaranteed that at least one or two contingents of society are going to be sorely disappointed.

What is the Guardian’s place amid all these changes?

We have a top, top team. We are one of the few papers which is genuinely independent, which means we are fair in both directions. And we have been proved right so many times. When May was touted as a strong woman who could deliver Brexit, the Guardian said “hang on, she doesn’t have a plan!”. We have never been a cheerleader for one side or the other, which probably irritates some people on occasion, but we’re not there just to bash the Tories – and equally when I write something disobliging about Corbyn, I get stick for it. The point is we are responsible for holding these figures to account, no matter which side of the political spectrum they fall on.



