Who Was The Queen's Favourite Prime Minister

Right, let’s settle this once and for all: who was Queen Elizabeth II’s favourite Prime Minister? The Palace isn’t telling, of course, but we can absolutely peek through the curtains of history with a cuppa and a snoop. Forget the state dinners; the real tea is in the weekly audiences, where 13 men (and one woman) had to face the Monarch alone for 90 minutes. It was less a chat and more a cross between a therapy session and a job interview that lasted decades.

Let’s start with Sir Winston Churchill, the first and the oldest. The Queen was just 25 when she met the cigar-chomping bulldog, and he famously wept at her Coronation. Look, if you make a 26-year-old monarch cry in 1953, you’ve already won. Their relationship was a mix of grandfatherly awe and genuine respect. She once admitted that when they talked, he’d forget she was the Queen and treat her like a clever granddaughter. That’s a power move, Winston.

But don’t sleep on Harold Wilson. He was the scruffy, pipe-smoking socialist who LOOKED like a geography teacher. Yet, he’s the only PM who managed to be favourite without being posh. Wilson ran the Queen’s Equine briefings (he loved horse-racing stats) and kept her laughing. One aide said she found him “delightfully transparent.” He even called her “Ma’am” so naturally you’d think he was born with a copy of Debrett’s in his nappy. Surprising fact: Wilson secretly recorded his cabinet but never recorded his chats with the Queen. Loyalty, thy name is Harold.

Now, the chaotic contender: Boris Johnson. Yes, that Boris. You think he was a disaster? For the Queen, he was probably a masterclass in entertainment. He once claimed the Palace staff had to hide the corgis because he’d distract them by making weird faces. A source claimed Her Majesty found his “total lack of shame” hilarious. It’s like having a clown at a board meeting. You don’t trust him with the budget, but you sure as hell want him at the pub afterwards.

The Underdog Whisperer

Let’s talk about John Major. This guy is the human equivalent of a beige cardigan. He’s so forgettable that even his own party couldn’t recall him. But—and this is a huge but—he had the most secret bond with the Queen. She reportedly had to explain the Gulf War to him, but he never leaked a single detail of their chats. Major’s memoir is so respectful it’s basically wallpaper. He’s the official “safe pair of hands” and the monarch’s secret emotional support human. You don’t have to be exciting to be a favourite; you just have to be trustworthy.

And then there’s Margaret Thatcher. Oh, the Iron Lady. Their relationship was famously frosty. Thatcher thought the Queen was “a bit squishy” on Commonwealth issues, while the Queen reportedly found Thatcher “a little too … Margaret.” They had a standoff over sanctions against South Africa that was so tense, royal biographers call it “The Great Spat of ’86.” Imagine two powerful women in matching blue suits giving each other the silent treatment at Balmoral. Awkward.

What about Liz Truss? She lasted 44 days, which is barely enough time to learn the corgis’ names. The Queen had to install her as PM just two days before dying. That’s not a favourite; that’s a cosmic joke. Truss’s tenure was so short that if you blinked, you’d think you saw a feral lettuce winning the lottery. The Queen probably thought, “Ah, well, I’ll just pop off instead.”

The Real Winner

So who actually won? Here’s the kicker: Tony Blair was the only one who called her “Your Majesty” so robotically that she asked him to please call her “Ma’am” like everyone else. But he’s also the only one who got her to smile in public more than anyone. Photos show her laughing at his jokes during a Scottish dinner, while her husband Philip looked like he was planning a prison break.

But the ultimate favourite? It’s probably David Cameron. He was posh, he was polished, he was nice. He never argued with her, never made waves, and he was the only PM who got invited to her private shooting weekends at Sandringham. When he left office, she reportedly gave him a signed photo “with great affection.” For the Queen, that’s basically a love letter. Cameron is the kid who always brings the teacher an apple and doesn’t eat it himself.

In the end, the Queen was the ultimate professional. She liked the ones who were discreet (Wilson, Major) and tolerated the ones who were dramatic (Thatcher, Johnson). But if we’re betting, put your money on Tony Blair. He once said she had “a great sense of the ridiculous,” and he knew how to tickle it. Plus, he gave her a new mobile phone in 2000. The Queen, with an old Nokia, texting Margaret Beckett about cows? That’s the favourite we deserve.

So there you have it: 13 PMs, four decades of gossip, and one monarch who could out-cardigan any diplomat. The favourite is whoever didn’t make her wait for the sandwiches. And that, my friend, is the only poll that matters.