'Women are superior...full stop'
Jeffrey Archer has just been to the gym. Cradled in a plump sofa, high up in his sumptuous Thames-side penthouse, he looks everso- slightly hot and bothered in his outfit of cricket jumper and tracksuit bottoms. But just weeks from his 74th birthday, Lord Archer fizzes with energy. With a sweeping bird’s-eye view of the nearby Palace of Westminster behind him, he is talking with gusto about one of his favourite topics: strong women.
Three, in particular, have played a major role in Archer’s life and their names come round again and again, like key characters in one of his bestselling novels. They are his wife of 50 years, Mary, his ‘remarkable mother’, Lola – and Margaret Thatcher.
In fact, rather surprisingly, there’s something of the feminist about Archer. ‘I’m a very strong believer in equal rights, because I know women are superior,’ he says. ‘And that’s not said for The Lady – I’ve proved it all my life. I believe women are superior. Full stop.’
He pauses briefly for breath and then names a fourth heroine: German Chancellor Angela Merkel. ‘I’d have her as prime minister today,’ he announces. ‘I’d bring her over in a rowing boat and put her in Number 10. She’s fantastic.’
Archer can be prickly company if you stray on to the wrong topic, but he talks glowingly and lovingly about the important ladies in his life. He becomes rather whimsical, for example, when he recalls the occasion his mother, Mary and Margaret Thatcher came together at his home in Grantchester, Cambridgeshire.
‘It was three generations: the woman who wasn’t given a chance [his mother], the woman who just about was given a chance [Thatcher] and the woman who had been given a chance [his wife].
‘Margaret was so impressed by the fact that my mother had got a degree at 53. Margaret and Mary always used to talk about science, because they both read chemistry at Oxford.
‘Ironically, the lady who taught Margaret chemistry at school in Grantham went on to Cheltenham Ladies and taught Mary. It gave them a bond that Margaret didn’t have with other people.
‘Mary has broken the rules all the way through,’ he adds, proudly. ‘She got these jobs that men were getting, something that is now taken for granted, which is wonderful.’
Now Dame Mary (she was honoured for her services to the NHS), Archer’s wife spent 20 years as the Chairman of Cambridge University Hospital NHS Foundation Trust and was recently tipped in the media as a future head of the Environment Agency. She certainly has form. Archer tells me how she bought pumps and organised the defences after their Grantchester home was flooded fi ve years ago, ensuring that they were fully protected against the latest deluge. ‘Now the waters just see her and go on to the next home,’ he says.
‘I wanted her to do it [run the Environment Agency]; she didn’t,’ he adds. ‘But there was never an off er, despite what the press said.’
He also talks proudly about how Mary recently fought off bladder cancer. ‘She was operated on for sevenand- a-half hours, then shortly after she came out, the senior nurse came into the room with a bunch of fl owers.
‘Mary had only just woken up but she asked the nurse to sit down and told her how she’d been worrying about the junior nurses’ rotas and how she thought she could fix the problem. I thought she was joking. She’d practically been dead an hour ago.'
Jeffrey Archer’s life has been livelier than most fiction. An MP at the age of 29, he rose through the ranks to become, under Margaret Thatcher, deputy chairman of the Conservative Party. He has sold 270 million books – three of which are currently in The New York Times bestseller list – and has amassed a fortune, much of which is spent on art (a David Hockney decorates his downstairs loo).
But then there was the near bankruptcy, the affairs – and the 2001 perjury trial that landed him in prison. No wonder he admires Mary for sticking by him. Archer isn’t religious, but I ask whether he considers himself more saint than sinner. He seems determined to answer the question with a number, calling upstairs for his assistant to fi nd the exact amount he has raised for charity, through auctions, since he left prison. It takes a while, but the figure is hollered back: ‘£21,078,977’.
It’s an impressive feat, but then Archer is a passionate auctioneer. ‘It’s the stealing money from rich people,’ he laughs. ‘It’s the Robin Hood in me. And then seeing these millionaires getting beaten up by their wives, either for giving or not giving.’
But if things had worked out differently, could he ever have risen to the top – and become prime minister? ‘No’, he answers firmly.
Why? Was he just too flash? ‘Don’t get cheeky. People who go to three Shakespeare plays a week aren’t flash.’
But surely he had a chance? ‘Everyone who gets into the House of Commons at 29 wants to be in the Cabinet,’ he says, ‘and I can certainly name 100 people in my lifetime who thought they had a chance of becoming prime minister – 30 of them genuinely did.’
I ask him to name some of them. ‘Roy Jenkins could have been. Michael Heseltine, Malcolm Rifkind, Douglas Hurd, Cecil Parkinson, Norman Tebbit. And then there was a guy called John Moore, Lord Moore. The best-looking man in the House – like George Clooney. Everyone said he would be prime minister. In the end, it just didn’t work.’ But what of politics now? Have things become a little dull? ‘Each generation thinks the last generation was more exciting…’ he replies. ‘When I was in the House, I was with Ted Heath and he was, by any standards, a dull politician. But I loved Harold Wilson, who was very lively and fun – and unquestionably Margaret Thatcher.
‘But then I collect political cartoons. I have one of Winston Churchill from when he retired. It simply shows him bestriding the House of Commons. That’s it. A giant. I can’t see them doing that for a modern prime minister. For Blair, for Major, for Cameron.’
Why? Are our leaders now too tied to the consensus, the centre ground? ‘You can’t win elections otherwise. Miliband doesn’t believe half the things he says, and you can tell he doesn’t. But he knows he can’t win if he says what he really believes.’
Archer loves his art. The Picasso in the bedroom; Sisley’s beautiful painting of the Seine. Behind me, I notice a magnifi cent sculpture of a First World War soldier by James Butler. I ask how he feels about marking that confl ict’s centenary.
‘We don’t want to revel in it. We don’t want to rejoice in it. And, by the way, we lost. Who is kidding who? Does Germany look like a failure? We beat them in two world wars and I’m saying let’s have Angela Merkel as prime minister.’
He adds that the two wars spelt the end of Britain’s role as a global superpower – although he’s still full of praise for the Foreign Office. ‘We do still box above our weight, though. The standard of our ambassadors does put us in a very strong position.
‘I was speaking to a young Italian the other day, and his country’s a joke. It’s the most beautiful country on Earth, it has the best art, but it’s down the tubes.’
Jeffrey Archer is a charismatic conversationalist. But then he’s an accomplished storyteller in the ancient, oral tradition. He can spin a yarn out of anything and then reliably reel you in. He certainly sees himself as a ‘storyteller’ rather than a literary writer, and proudly tells me how an Irishman in a bar once called him a seanchaí, a teller of tales. It’s this gift, he believes, that’s behind his phenomenal success as a novelist, although he also sees it as the reason why he hasn’t won any UK writing awards. ‘Perhaps that’s because the English dismiss storytellers as a lower rank,’ he says.
But then it’s hard to feel sorry for Lord Archer. He may have had his fair share of crises, but he’s always found a way to thrive. In fact, looking over his life, a lesser writer really couldn’t have made it up.
Be Careful What You Wish For, by Jeff rey Archer (Macmillan, £20 hardback; £12.99 eBook).
Three, in particular, have played a major role in Archer’s life and their names come round again and again, like key characters in one of his bestselling novels. They are his wife of 50 years, Mary, his ‘remarkable mother’, Lola – and Margaret Thatcher.
In fact, rather surprisingly, there’s something of the feminist about Archer. ‘I’m a very strong believer in equal rights, because I know women are superior,’ he says. ‘And that’s not said for The Lady – I’ve proved it all my life. I believe women are superior. Full stop.’
He pauses briefly for breath and then names a fourth heroine: German Chancellor Angela Merkel. ‘I’d have her as prime minister today,’ he announces. ‘I’d bring her over in a rowing boat and put her in Number 10. She’s fantastic.’
Archer can be prickly company if you stray on to the wrong topic, but he talks glowingly and lovingly about the important ladies in his life. He becomes rather whimsical, for example, when he recalls the occasion his mother, Mary and Margaret Thatcher came together at his home in Grantchester, Cambridgeshire.
‘It was three generations: the woman who wasn’t given a chance [his mother], the woman who just about was given a chance [Thatcher] and the woman who had been given a chance [his wife].
‘Margaret was so impressed by the fact that my mother had got a degree at 53. Margaret and Mary always used to talk about science, because they both read chemistry at Oxford.
‘Ironically, the lady who taught Margaret chemistry at school in Grantham went on to Cheltenham Ladies and taught Mary. It gave them a bond that Margaret didn’t have with other people.
‘Mary has broken the rules all the way through,’ he adds, proudly. ‘She got these jobs that men were getting, something that is now taken for granted, which is wonderful.’
Now Dame Mary (she was honoured for her services to the NHS), Archer’s wife spent 20 years as the Chairman of Cambridge University Hospital NHS Foundation Trust and was recently tipped in the media as a future head of the Environment Agency. She certainly has form. Archer tells me how she bought pumps and organised the defences after their Grantchester home was flooded fi ve years ago, ensuring that they were fully protected against the latest deluge. ‘Now the waters just see her and go on to the next home,’ he says.
‘I wanted her to do it [run the Environment Agency]; she didn’t,’ he adds. ‘But there was never an off er, despite what the press said.’
He also talks proudly about how Mary recently fought off bladder cancer. ‘She was operated on for sevenand- a-half hours, then shortly after she came out, the senior nurse came into the room with a bunch of fl owers.
‘Mary had only just woken up but she asked the nurse to sit down and told her how she’d been worrying about the junior nurses’ rotas and how she thought she could fix the problem. I thought she was joking. She’d practically been dead an hour ago.'
Jeffrey Archer’s life has been livelier than most fiction. An MP at the age of 29, he rose through the ranks to become, under Margaret Thatcher, deputy chairman of the Conservative Party. He has sold 270 million books – three of which are currently in The New York Times bestseller list – and has amassed a fortune, much of which is spent on art (a David Hockney decorates his downstairs loo).
But then there was the near bankruptcy, the affairs – and the 2001 perjury trial that landed him in prison. No wonder he admires Mary for sticking by him. Archer isn’t religious, but I ask whether he considers himself more saint than sinner. He seems determined to answer the question with a number, calling upstairs for his assistant to fi nd the exact amount he has raised for charity, through auctions, since he left prison. It takes a while, but the figure is hollered back: ‘£21,078,977’.
It’s an impressive feat, but then Archer is a passionate auctioneer. ‘It’s the stealing money from rich people,’ he laughs. ‘It’s the Robin Hood in me. And then seeing these millionaires getting beaten up by their wives, either for giving or not giving.’
But if things had worked out differently, could he ever have risen to the top – and become prime minister? ‘No’, he answers firmly.
Why? Was he just too flash? ‘Don’t get cheeky. People who go to three Shakespeare plays a week aren’t flash.’
But surely he had a chance? ‘Everyone who gets into the House of Commons at 29 wants to be in the Cabinet,’ he says, ‘and I can certainly name 100 people in my lifetime who thought they had a chance of becoming prime minister – 30 of them genuinely did.’
I ask him to name some of them. ‘Roy Jenkins could have been. Michael Heseltine, Malcolm Rifkind, Douglas Hurd, Cecil Parkinson, Norman Tebbit. And then there was a guy called John Moore, Lord Moore. The best-looking man in the House – like George Clooney. Everyone said he would be prime minister. In the end, it just didn’t work.’ But what of politics now? Have things become a little dull? ‘Each generation thinks the last generation was more exciting…’ he replies. ‘When I was in the House, I was with Ted Heath and he was, by any standards, a dull politician. But I loved Harold Wilson, who was very lively and fun – and unquestionably Margaret Thatcher. ‘But then I collect political cartoons. I have one of Winston Churchill from when he retired. It simply shows him bestriding the House of Commons. That’s it. A giant. I can’t see them doing that for a modern prime minister. For Blair, for Major, for Cameron.’
Why? Are our leaders now too tied to the consensus, the centre ground? ‘You can’t win elections otherwise. Miliband doesn’t believe half the things he says, and you can tell he doesn’t. But he knows he can’t win if he says what he really believes.’
Archer loves his art. The Picasso in the bedroom; Sisley’s beautiful painting of the Seine. Behind me, I notice a magnifi cent sculpture of a First World War soldier by James Butler. I ask how he feels about marking that confl ict’s centenary.
‘We don’t want to revel in it. We don’t want to rejoice in it. And, by the way, we lost. Who is kidding who? Does Germany look like a failure? We beat them in two world wars and I’m saying let’s have Angela Merkel as prime minister.’
He adds that the two wars spelt the end of Britain’s role as a global superpower – although he’s still full of praise for the Foreign Office. ‘We do still box above our weight, though. The standard of our ambassadors does put us in a very strong position.
‘I was speaking to a young Italian the other day, and his country’s a joke. It’s the most beautiful country on Earth, it has the best art, but it’s down the tubes.’
Jeffrey Archer is a charismatic conversationalist. But then he’s an accomplished storyteller in the ancient, oral tradition. He can spin a yarn out of anything and then reliably reel you in. He certainly sees himself as a ‘storyteller’ rather than a literary writer, and proudly tells me how an Irishman in a bar once called him a seanchaí, a teller of tales. It’s this gift, he believes, that’s behind his phenomenal success as a novelist, although he also sees it as the reason why he hasn’t won any UK writing awards. ‘Perhaps that’s because the English dismiss storytellers as a lower rank,’ he says.
But then it’s hard to feel sorry for Lord Archer. He may have had his fair share of crises, but he’s always found a way to thrive. In fact, looking over his life, a lesser writer really couldn’t have made it up.
Be Careful What You Wish For, by Jeff rey Archer (Macmillan, £20 hardback; £12.99 eBook).