The ‘checkered’ record of ministers using houses of grace and favor

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A capricious sister. Dusty bottles of wine stolen from the cellar to quench the thirst of amorous guests. A prime minister dealing with a global crisis while raiding the fridge for snacks in the middle of the night.

No, these are not vignettes of life at Checkers taken from Boris Johnson’s lockdown diaries – reports this week revealed police were lean on them during a separate investigation into whether activities at the Prime Ministers’ official country residence breached restrictions. Rather, they appear in The diplomata Netflix drama that gave viewers an extraordinary view into one of the houses of grace and favor provided to the highest-ranking members of the British government.

With scenes shot at Chevening, the Georgian mansion set aside for the use of cabinet ministers, the cast’s antics include naked clinch in the lake as well as walks in the woods. Much of the show cannot be taken for diplomatic reality, as current Foreign Secretary James Cleverly pointed out in a ‘fact-checking’ video. A whiskey-and-wooden flirtation between his on-screen equivalent and the American ambassador, for example, may take the interpretation of “soft power” a bit too far.

Combined with the latest Checkers probe, however, the show has sparked interest in precisely what is going on in these tall buildings.

Historian Sir Anthony Seldon laments the “too little of us” of politicians in the way they exploit these residences for diplomatic purposes. Statesmen of earlier eras had their own country houses, he points out; but since David Lloyd George benefited from Checkers’ legacy to the nation in 1917, modern prime ministers have mostly been “of a different breed.” They still need a spacious place to ‘meet’, he explains, because Downing Street’s ‘little townhouse’ compares poorly to the Elysée, the White House or the German Chancellery .

The problem arises when ministers’ use of these properties comes with “a sense of entitlement, not a sense of purpose.” In other words, we shouldn’t let clowns or tricksters near the doors. This sometimes turned out to be tricky.

Think of the blurry, long-distance photographs of Deputy Prime Minister John Prescott in Dorneywood, playing croquet when he was supposed to be in charge while Tony Blair was in Washington. Not much of the “decorum” demanded by Seldon was on display. Or perhaps when then-Chancellor George Osborne argued with Nick Clegg over the use of Dorneywood – the Deputy Prime Minister ended up sharing Chevening’s 115 rooms with William Hague.

Theresa May has made Checkers synonymous with her doomed July 2018 Brexit compromise – but the all-day cabinet meeting to approve it has had dire criticism from visitors. Phones were confiscated and dissidents threatened with minicabs in their homes.

Then came the Johnson era with his plan for a £150,000 bulletproof toddler treehouse (never built) and wedding reception (moved to another location when he quit) .

Some may think the whole setup has had its day – after all, country life today is mostly the preserve of cosplaying oligarchs or entertainment luminaries (What ho! Madonna in tweed). But we don’t want these people to be close to power. And it probably makes sense to show off the nation’s assets, though those of us who don’t have our own house of grace and favor might blame ourselves.

Seldon is right: these houses were given to the nation to improve the efficiency of our governments. Rishi Sunak, who recently hosted the Ukrainian president at Checkers and hosted a photocall at a room used for Winston Churchill’s wartime speeches, seems to have gotten the idea. “Summoning” has value. And that certainly shouldn’t be left to Netflix scouts.

miranda.green@ft.com