Never has a politician’s lectern been more symbolic. As Liz Truss stood outside Downing Street to give her resignation speech, all eyes were on the bizarre wooden structure that stood before her – seemingly made from Jenga blocks, ready to take a tumble. With the pieces artfully arranged in a downward spiral, it was the perfect metaphor for her turbulent six-week premiership and sudden, comical collapse.
It was the fourth such personalised prime ministerial lectern in six years, after an apparent Conservative party mandate that each new leader must come with their own matching podium, like an action figure with coordinating accessory. Each new item of furniture would be symbolic of a supposedly fresh new regime – and turn out to be prophetically revealing of each prime minister’s character.
While Tony Blair and Gordon Brown mostly made do with wheelie mic stands, occasionally adorned with a shelf for their notes, David Cameron was the first PM to usher in the era of the grand bespoke lectern. His was a varnished blond wooden affair, designed with a swooping hourglass profile that summoned images of champagne flutes and corseted waistlines. Its slick, glossy surface perfectly mirrored his own buffed, shiny visage. The royal coat of arms also appeared for the first time, stuck on the front as a big black badge, in an attempt to add a stately, regal touch to proceedings. From now on, image would be everything.
Theresa May kept the royal seal, but the character of her lectern could not have been more different. She threw out Cameron’s swooping pomp and replaced it with a stripped-back, no-nonsense stick, topped with a simple, square shelf. Her austere lectern spoke of a new disciplined, protestant ethic, a darker timber post from which to preach the new “strong and stable” gospel. Although its spindly design gave the impression that it might wobble over at any minute.
May’s slender stick was far too minimal for the larger-than-life Boris Johnson. He would usher in his big, bold, brash era with one of the most ostentatious lecterns to date, desperately reaching for some presidential gravitas with a design lifted straight from the White House briefing room (which he also tried to recreate, at vast expense). Clad in what looked like walnut veneer – the statesmanship in Johnson’s case being skin-deep – his lectern rose in a hefty triangular wedge from a stepped plinth. Its structure was clearly designed to be sturdy enough to withstand a good bashing from those chubby flying fists.
Then came Truss, who went all out with the weirdness, keen to make her mark with a structure that looked suspiciously as if it might have come from the studio of Thomas Heatherwick, recalling the spiralling trunk of his Jubilee Tree of Trees. Its first appearance saw its stacked surface draped with a staggered union jack pattern, suggesting it might transform its livery for each occasion. Sadly, we will never know the potentials of this twisting pile. Looking like the most expensive structure to date, Truss’s corkscrew has been the most short-lived, too.
So what design treat will the reign of Rishi Sunak bring? Will this supposedly environmentally conscious PM do the decent thing and upcycle Truss’s costly column? On Tuesday, his lectern was a plain, clean-cut affair which appeared to combine Truss’s top with a new base, the square lines in tune with the four-square, solid image he is seeking to present. But this is a man whose lust for personal branding knows no bounds and there’s been little time so far to commission bespoke joinery.
As chancellor, Sunak had his own logo designed, and stamped social media posts with his stylised signature. If there is to be a Brand Rishi lectern, then it promises to be one of the most supercharged yet. Perhaps it will reference his love for Star Wars, with crossed lightsabers in place of the royal crest. Or perhaps it will come with his autograph across the front in glowing neon, and a pre-heated pedestal, like his £180 coffee mug – handy for keeping those Prada loafers nice and toasty, while the rest of us switch off the central heating.
