Cards on the table, when I first read a story heavily suggesting the theft of Morgan McSweeney’s mobile phone was somehow connected to requests for messages about Lord Mandelson, I thought to myself: that is an absurd conspiracy theory.
After all, what are those “raising an eyebrow” at this affair saying happened?
Was Number 10’s chief-of-staff running around central London at 10pm waving his phone about, willing a bike-riding burglar to pinch it (as some AI generated images depict)?
Did he fake the whole thing by chucking the phone into a dumper truck and spinning a yarn to the police to create a paper trail?
Both scenarios – even now – seem incredibly unlikely.
All of that said, I’ve since been asked by some within government whether these mad scenarios are what I’m suggesting by pointing out that – contrary to what the prime minister said in an interview this week – it did not seem “far-fetched” at all for anyone to think in October 2025 that a formal request for Mandelson-related messages could have come along.
For the avoidance of doubt, I’m not – and Sky News is not – saying either of these zany theories are true.
It’s feared text messages between Morgan McSweeney and Lord Mandelson (pictured) have been lost
So, why cover the story at all?
For a start, it is simply not correct to say that making enquiries and running limited coverage equates to endorsing the most extreme and partisan iteration of a story.
Journalism at its core involves going down metaphorical dark alleys only to find that they don’t lead you to the place you were expecting or, in many cases, they don’t lead you anywhere at all.
The process is the point.
When I first got the tip off that led to our story about the former transport secretary Louise Haigh‘s undisclosed conviction in relation (to another) allegedly stolen mobile phone, my initial instinct was, again: I’m not sure I believe this.
The tip off was very different to the story we eventually published – in some ways it presented a more favourable picture of the situation, in others, it didn’t.
But the process of journalism led us to something which was undoubtedly in the public interest to reveal.
Read more:
Starmer: ‘Far-fetched’ to link McSweeney phone theft to Mandelson files
Explained: Why is the McSweeney phone theft a big deal?
Likewise, when newspaper reports began to emerge about deputy prime minister Angela Rayner purchasing a fancy looking flat on the coast, my initial reaction was: “What’s wrong with that?”
Stories followed suggesting she had avoided paying stamp duty using a legal – but politically problematic – method.
The defence at the time from those around Ms Rayner was comprehensive and convincing.
Still, we decided to cover the story – albeit in a relatively limited way.
Then, everything shifted.
Ms Rayner had underpaid tax, but not for the reason initially reported.
She’d in fact made a legal misstep, albeit one that looked more like a cock-up than conspiracy.
It cost her the deputy prime minister job though, as journalists and the country were led to a very different place, with fallout that still shapes politics to this day.
Should that dark alley have been ventured down? Undeniably, yes.
Sometimes, these explorations lead nowhere.
The story of Rachel Reeves failing to get the right licence when renting out her home looked, briefly, like it may cause her problems.
But an explanation was offered and the issue went away, with little to no lasting damage.
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In all these examples, perhaps the biggest point of contention, is not over whether they should be looked at, but when a news organisation should publish.
What some in Whitehall seemed particularly aggrieved by in relation to the Morgan McSweeney story was that mainstream outlets were now weighing into an online quagmire of conspiracy – feeding the beast and bringing credibility.
But for those suggesting we went too early, I offer this defence.
It is not, for me at least, that the stolen phone saga “looks bad”.
To use that awfully hackneyed phrase, the “optics” do sometimes matter in politics.
But generally, we should all be far more interested in what “is” bad over what simply “looks” bad.
And on that, it is clear – regardless of the reasons lying behind it – that the potential loss of reams of messages legally demanded by parliament about Mandelson from a man instrumental in his catastrophically judged appointment as US ambassador is bad.
It’s very bad.
In my book, that alone is a slam dunk for coverage and enquiry. It may lead to the place certain people are suggesting. It may lead somewhere else. It may lead nowhere.
But it’s the job of journalists to find out.
And if you disagree, I’d like to tell you about a few countries that approach these things a bit differently.
