You’d think a posh lawyer from Durham and a foul-mouthed journalist from Yorkshire would have nothing in common. But watch them together on a podcast or read Campbell’s diaries, and it’s like watching two old blokes in a pub who finish each other’s sentences. They bicker, they tease, and they still have this unspoken shorthand that speaks of a thousand late nights and shared enemies.
Remember when Campbell famously said, “We don’t do God”? That wasn’t a solo decision. It was a them decision, a little joke between mates about how to handle the tricky bits. It’s the kind of thing you do when you’ve been through the wringer together—like surviving a terrible holiday where the car broke down, or in their case, surviving the Iraq War fallout and a media firestorm.
They even wrote a book together—The Journey—which is basically a 700-page version of that awkward WhatsApp group chat you have with your best mate. It’s full of mutual admiration, blunt honesty, and the occasional “remember when you got that bit wrong?” It’s not a love letter; it’s a friendship manifesto written by two blokes who know where all the bodies are buried.
The Real Test: The Pub Test
The true test of any friendship isn’t a crisis, but a quiet Tuesday. If you can sit in a pub with someone, say nothing for ten minutes, and not feel awkward, you’re proper mates. Blair and Campbell have that. After Campbell left Downing Street in 2003, many assumed the friendship would fizzle out. People move jobs, move on, grow apart. But they didn’t.
Tony Blair Alastair Campbell Stock-Fotos und Bilder - Getty Images
They still meet up. Campbell still tweets about Blair with a mix of fondness and exasperation. Blair still turns up to Campbell’s charity events. It’s like when you have that friend who moves to Australia, but every time they’re back, you pick up exactly where you left off. The connection is deeper than the official title.
There’s a famous story: during the tense run-up to the 1997 election, Campbell was so stressed he could barely sleep. Blair, knowing his mate was fraying at the edges, didn’t give him a motivational speech. He just handed him a bottle of red wine and said, “Sort it out.” That’s not boss and employee talk. That’s mate talk. It’s the same energy as “You look stressed, here’s a bacon sandwich.”
