James McAlpine did not set out to become a political celebrity. At 7ft 2in, he was always likely to stand out in a crowd, but when he walked into the 2025 Conservative Party Conference, he had no idea that his life was about to change forever. Someone pointed a camera, the internet did what the internet does, and suddenly the world had found its “world’s tallest Tory.” It was the kind of moment that usually burns out after a few days. But James was not just a meme. He was an actual Conservative, an actual student with actual political opinions, and a personality that made people want to hear more. A year later, at the 2026 conference, he is still here. There have been television appearances, countless online views and endless handshakes. He has gone from being a 7ft 2in student to a bona fide political star, and he could not be more delighted about it. “It’s been so much fun, very engaging, and I’ve loved every single moment of it,” he said. “I never would have imagined it in a thousand years, but I’ve really loved it, every single second.” There is no cynicism in his voice. He seems genuinely amazed that the accident of his height and his politics has opened so many doors. And he is determined to enjoy every minute, because he knows that moments like this do not come around every day.
The past year has been a whirlwind of studios, stages and strange new experiences. James has appeared on GB News, where he has happily shared his views with a wider audience. He has also shown a lighter side, popping up as a guest on Channel 4’s The Last Leg alongside comedians Katherine Ryan and Harriet Kemsley. It is a strange journey for someone who was, until recently, just another tall face in a lecture hall. But James has not simply used his fame for fun. He has also taken his message out to the country, attending county farming shows around the UK to argue that Labour is letting rural communities down. His complaint is simple: people in the countryside feel ignored, and they are being treated as an afterthought. As he puts it, rural areas are put “at the bottom of the list, when they should be at the top.” It is a message that resonates with people who believe that politicians in Westminster spend too much time talking to cities and not enough time listening to the farmers, small business owners and families who keep the rest of the country running. James, with his giant frame and easy manner, seems to have found a niche. He is not trying to be a slick, polished professional politician. He is just being himself, and somehow that is working.
Politics, of course, is not always about serious policy. Sometimes it is about the strange little moments that reveal how disconnected politicians can be from everyday life. That is why James was quick to react to comments made by Labour nature minister Jenny Riddell-Carpenter at the Labour conference. She warned that a “far-right, nostalgic vision of Britain” could be peddled at the next election, a vision that apparently includes “warm ale” and “a black Labrador by your feet in a pub that doesn’t exist.” It was the kind of comment designed to make Conservatives look backward-looking and out of touch. James, however, turned it into a joke, and a surprisingly effective one. “I know many people who live in the countryside who are even Labour who own black Labradors,” he said, “and trust me, those black Labradors aren’t racist.” He then added that he used to have a black Labrador himself, and she “wasn’t racist at all.” It is a silly debate on the surface, but underneath it there is a real point. Rural Britain is not a museum of old-fashioned values. It is full of real people with real dogs, real lives and real problems. By poking fun at the minister’s stereotype, James was defending the countryside against the idea that it is somehow a threat. And he did it without losing his sense of humour, which is exactly why people warm to him.
When it comes to the leadership of his own party, James is now firmly behind Kemi Badenoch. The 2026 conference is Badenoch’s second as Conservative leader, and her position looks much safer than it did last year. James admits that this was not always obvious to him. “I voted for Robert Jenrick, regrettably so,” he said, “cause then he went to Reform.” He does not hide his disappointment. In fact, he is blunt about it. “Good riddance to him, I don’t like him one bit, I think he’s rude.” It is the kind of honest, unfiltered comment that has made James so easy to quote. He is not a carefully managed political machine. He is just someone who says what he thinks. And what he thinks is that Badenoch is doing “absolutely fantastic.” He points to opinion polls that, in his view, are rising by the week, and he predicts that the next general election will be a straight fight between the Tories and Reform UK. That is a bold claim, but James seems confident. He believes that the Conservative Party, under Badenoch, can win back the voters who have drifted towards Reform. He wants to be part of that fight, though not yet as a candidate. For now, he is happy to be a supporter, a voice and a familiar face at Tory events, using his height and his personality to help make the party look a little more human.
Looking further ahead, James still has serious political ambitions. At last year’s conference, he admitted that he would one day like to become a Conservative MP, and perhaps even run for leader. That dream has not gone away. But he is no longer a student, and the real world has caught up with him. He is currently job hunting, not for a political job, but for a regular one, because he still needs to live and pay his bills. “It’s still very much on the cards, I can assure you that,” he said when asked about becoming an MP. But he is not in a rush. “In a few years’ time – not the next election, maybe not the one after, but the one after that, I think you could definitely see me as a candidate running, running for an MP position.” This patience is wise. Many people who become famous for a moment try to turn that fame into a seat in Parliament far too quickly, and it rarely works. James seems to understand that voters want more than a personality. They want someone who has lived a normal life, faced normal struggles and understood their problems. By waiting, working and building his credibility, he is giving himself the best possible chance of succeeding when the time finally comes. It might not be the fastest route to power, but it is probably the most authentic one.
Standing at the Conservative Party Conference, James McAlpine is impossible to miss, and not just because of his height. There is an energy about him, a genuine enthusiasm that is rare in modern politics. He has taken an accidental viral moment and turned it into something meaningful, without ever losing the sense of fun that made people like him in the first place. He has defended black Labradors, championed rural communities and backed his party’s leader with a smile. He has also reminded everyone that politics does not have to be miserable. In an age of anger, division and endless culture wars, his good humour is a breath of fresh air. The road to power is still long, and the Conservative Party faces enormous challenges. But James is willing to walk that road, one step at a time, as tall as ever and just as cheerful. “I’ve loved every single moment,” he said, and you believe him. Whether he eventually becomes an MP, a minister or even a leader, or whether he simply remains the world’s tallest Tory, he has already made his mark. He has shown that an ordinary person, with a little bit of luck and a lot of personality, can break into the political conversation and make people listen. That is no small achievement. And for James McAlpine, it is only the beginning.
