Like the new school year, ambassadors to Britain usually change each September. Among those leaving this summer are the German, Swiss and Canadian representatives; their successors will shortly begin limbering up on the cocktail circuit, eager to make their social mark. The man they will have to beat is the US ambassador, Warren Stephens. His great advantage is Winfield House, his palatial private residence, which boasts the second-largest garden in the capital after Buckingham Palace.
Every year, the London elite pile in here to toast the Fourth of July. At this year’s Independence bash, Stephens made his mark with spectacular fireworks and a star-spangled smorgasbord of food from across the fifty US states. Pixie Lott and Nile Rodgers sang for the 4,000-strong crowd, as broadcasting heavyweights Piers Morgan and Andrew Marr mixed with the likes of Lord Mandelson, Nigel Farage and Ed Balls.
Stephens follows in a rich tradition: his Obama-era predecessor, Matthew Barzun, hosted Friday-night parties at which Ed Sheeran serenaded a dressed-down David and Samantha Cameron. Before him was Louis Susman, who used Winfield House to showcase an art collection of Rothkos and Reinhardts. ‘The Americans know the importance of keeping up appearances,’ remarks one British official, pointing to London’s endless series of rival receptions, soirées and national-day celebrations.
‘Everyone loved dinners at the former Jordanian ambassador’s house,’ recalls one Tory MP.
Diplomacy demands entertainment – and there is fierce competition to be the best hosts. Hélène Duchêne, the French ambassador, boasts a fabulous pile at No. 11 Kensington Palace Gardens. Oysters, foie gras and 12,000 canapés are served up here each Bastille Day. Attendees this year included ITV journalist Robert Peston, Antonio Patriota, the former Brazilian foreign minister, and Sophie Densham, the King’s Private Secretary.
Among Duchêne’s neighbours on ‘Billionaires’ Row’ are the likes of Len Blavatnik and Roman Abramovich and the Russian, Lebanese and Slovak embassies at Nos 6, 21 and 25. The street has long been a lair for the great and grand. During the 1960s, the society hostess Lady Cholmondeley got so fed up with hippy tourists getting the wrong address that she hung a sign outside her sprawling pile that read: ‘This is not the Nepalese embassy.’
Across Hyde Park, at Grosvenor Place, the Irish embassy enjoys embracing national stereotypes to the full. Every St Patrick’s Day, they serve Baby Guinnesses and Baileys on silver platters, amid shamrocks and clovers galore. Morgan McSweeney, Keir Starmer’s chief of staff, is among those in Labour’s Irish contingent who have enjoyed the embassy’s hospitality. Drunken revellers are persuaded to leave at the end of the night by staff flashing the lights on and off, like a student nightclub.
Sometimes, though, that is not enough. The Bishop of Southwark made headlines in 2006 after enjoying a night at the Irish embassy’s Christmas drinks with establishment grandees Lord Trimble and Eliza Manningham-Buller, the former head of MI5. One witness reported seeing the bishop sitting in the back of a Mercedes chucking children’s toys out of the window. When asked why, he reportedly replied: ‘I am the Bishop of Southwark, it’s what I do.’
In a bid to attract their fellow diplomats, embassies embrace their national traits to the full. Berlin’s emissaries toasted their last election with lashings of beer, bratwurst and pretzels. The Finns run the invite-only ‘London Diplomatic Sauna Society’, with an on-site sauna for semi-naked networking. The Aussies boast their own ‘Duck ’n’ Dingo’ pub; Italians ply you with prosecco. Canada House, meanwhile, offers maple-syrup pancake breakfasts and poutine-fuelled evenings from their unbeatable view over Trafalgar Square.
Not all embassies enjoy such a charmed life. The Indian and Pakistani High Commissions are magnets for protest. North Korea’s deputy ambassador defected in 2016, abandoning Pyongyang’s seven-bed semi in Ealing to switch to the West instead. Cultural attachés from less friendly nations are occasionally asked to leave the country owing to over-zealous espionage activities. ‘That can be a bit awkward,’ admits one Foreign Office grandee. Pall Mall offers diplomats some much-needed neutral and discreet territory. Even today, the Travellers’ Club is still considered ‘an extension of the Foreign Office canteen’.
Different ambassadors seek the spotlight in different ways. Ivan Romero-Martinez has been Honduras’s man here for nearly 20 years. Famed for his collection of 200 walking canes, he holds the title of Dean of the Diplomatic Corps, his longevity enabling him to outrank all other ambassadors in precedence. Others have embraced new forms of communication: Tokyo’s Hiroshi Suzuki has more than 150,000 online followers thanks to his cross-country travels with a miniature Paddington Bear.
Politicians in Westminster are often taken with these exotic arrivals. ‘Everyone loved dinners at the former Jordanian ambassador’s house,’ recalls one Tory MP. ‘It’s how I met Sandi Toksvig!’ Foreign-affairs enthusiasts find themselves invited to all sorts of eclectic receptions. Labour’s Emily Thornberry was among those found at India House in July, hailing the men’s cricket team after their Old Trafford Test battle. Occasionally, though, undiplomatic incidents do occur. One Tory whip, Walter Bromley-Davenport, lost his job in the 1950s after kicking what he took to be a wayward MP down a flight of stairs. It turned out to be the Belgian ambassador.
The ability to influence events in London is what determines an emissary’s worth. Foreign Office staff recall endless Pakistani mangoes and Arab dates arriving on their desks from embassies keen to curry favour. Other diplomats proved more wily. George Brandis, Australia’s former high commissioner, threw raucous parties for the likes of Holly Valance and Liz Truss. They paid dividends when he pulled off a £10 billion trade deal with Boris Johnson in 2021 after a Downing Street dinner and a branded Vegemite surfboard.
London is, by common consensus, one of the three best postings for a diplomat, along with Paris and Washington. As the gateway to Europe and the heart of the Commonwealth, the British capital occupies a unique space in geopolitical life. ‘Everybody wants to go to London,’ says one envoy. ‘English is the world’s language.’ That prestige is reflected in the choice of political and cultural luminaries. The Americans normally send wealthy donors, the Kiwis prefer politicians, while Europeans select from an elite cadre of bureaucrats. The upcoming third season of Netflix hit The Diplomat – which is set in London and features scenes shot in the Foreign Office – has now added a touch of glamour to postings too.
Yet ultimately what unites all diplomats is London’s trump card: the royals. Whether it is Trooping the Colour or the Buckingham Palace garden party, all nations are equal when it comes to meeting the King. On taking up their posts, each new ambassador enjoys being driven through the London traffic in horse-drawn carriages to present their credentials to the King.
Warren Stephens is among those to complete that journey this spring, describing his meeting with the ‘gracious’ monarch as ‘a thrill’. His main task over the next twelve months is throwing a 250th-birthday bash to mark the anniversary of the Declaration of American Independence. One thing is for sure: with the cream of London all now angling for an invite, it is sure to be one hell of a party.
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