On December 5, 2025, Liz Truss, Britain’s shortest-serving prime minister, made her much-anticipated return to the public eye—not through the hallowed halls of Westminster, but via the bright, unpredictable world of YouTube. Promising to "take on the deep state" and "expose" those she holds responsible for her political demise, Truss launched The Liz Truss Show, a weekly series billed as a "bold new programme in a media landscape dominated by groupthink and timid consensus," according to her own announcement on Instagram.
The show’s debut, however, was hardly the slick, on-time production her followers might have expected. Truss had tweeted that the first episode would go live at 6pm. By 6:05pm, there was no sign of it, and her most loyal supporters took to social media, growing increasingly restless. "Where’s your show?" one asked. Another, more exasperated, wrote, "FFS Liz get your act together." By 6:20pm, speculation ran wild, with one user joking—perhaps half-seriously—"Could this be the Deep State in action?" Finally, at 7pm, the episode appeared. As The Guardian wryly noted, perhaps Truss "still hasn’t worked out how to change her clocks back from British summer time."
Once online, the show wasted no time in setting its tone. Truss’s opening monologue was a broadside against what she sees as Britain’s decline. "You’d have to be watching the fake news BBC to not know that Britain is going to hell in a handcart," she declared, seated in front of a bookshelf that, as The Guardian described, looked suspiciously like it belonged in a pub. She painted a bleak picture: "Small businesses are dying. Big businesses are leaving… people are having to pull their own teeth out," she groaned. For Truss, the country is now a "crime-ridden, socialist, Islamist dystopia." And why don’t the British public see it? The media, she argued, are to blame, ensconced behind "Gail’s bakeries and gated residences," and refusing to tell the real story.
Truss’s rhetoric has taken a sharp turn toward the language of American right-wing populism. According to The Evening Standard, the show is positioned as "the home of the counter revolution," with Truss promising to "mount a fierce defence of Western values" and "go head-to-head with heavyweight thinkers, cultural disruptors, political rebels, and voices challenging the status quo." Her guest list reflects this ambition, featuring figures such as Matt Goodwin—introduced as "Britain’s No 1 Substack"—as well as a podcaster sporting a "FREEDOM" T-shirt, and former Brexit party MEP Alex Phillips. The latter’s interview ended abruptly as she began a controversial discussion on immigration, leaving viewers to wonder whether technical difficulties or editorial discretion were at play.
Truss’s embrace of American-style culture war politics is no accident. Since losing her seat in South West Norfolk in the 2024 general election, she has become a fixture on the right-wing speech circuit, especially in the United States. She has appeared at CPAC conferences not only in the US but also in Hungary and Australia, rubbing shoulders with conservative and far-right activists. At one such event in February 2024, Truss blamed her downfall on the British civil service, which she claimed was "full of trans activists and environmental extremists." As The Evening Standard reports, Truss has become a darling of MAGA circles, with American hosts fawning over her "transformative ideas in parliament and then of course as Prime Minister."
Truss’s narrative is clear: her political undoing was not the result of her own decisions—despite her 49-day tenure being marked by market chaos and the infamous "omnishambles"—but rather the machinations of a "deep state." This alleged cabal, she argues, includes mainstream media outlets like the BBC and The Financial Times, the Bank of England, and the "Davos elite," all supposedly conspiring to manipulate government policy and stifle dissent. As she told the pro-Trump outlet Just the News, "This is going to be the home of the counter revolution."
Her media pivot has proven lucrative. Despite her short stint in office, Truss continues to receive the ex-prime minister’s annual allowance for public duties—a tidy £97,000 in 2025. Yet, as The Evening Standard notes, her real financial windfall comes from paid speaking engagements on the US right-wing circuit. In September 2025, she delivered a speech at Hillsdale College in Michigan, a bastion of ultra-conservative Christian thought, praising it as "a bulwark against the ‘wokeification’ of higher education." More recently, she appeared at a Christian college for the CEO Summit, where she lamented "the current drift in the U.K. toward increasingly liberal and Marxist thought."
Truss’s interests extend beyond politics and media. At a recent cryptocurrency conference, she expressed strong support for Bitcoin and digital currencies, stating she was "very supportive of Bitcoin" and had no intention of returning to frontline politics "if the system hasn’t changed." For now, she declared, she is "focused on media."
Back in Britain, Truss’s reputation remains, at best, controversial. She is widely remembered for popularising the term "omnishambles" and, perhaps most memorably, for being outlasted by an iceberg lettuce—an internet meme that continues to haunt her legacy. Her efforts to recast herself as a crusader against the establishment have met with skepticism and, at times, outright mockery. As The Guardian observed, Truss has become "blanked in her own country to such an extent that ITV Racing didn’t even recognize her last time she went to Goodwood." Her move to online broadcasting seems as much an attempt to find a new audience abroad as it is to control her own narrative at home.
Despite the rocky start, Truss is undeterred. Episode 2 of The Liz Truss Show is scheduled for Friday, December 12, 2025, again at 6pm—assuming, as The Guardian quipped, she has "figured out how clocks work before then." Whether the show will gain traction or fade into the ever-growing archive of YouTube curiosities remains to be seen. For now, Liz Truss stands as a symbol of a new breed of political exile: one who, finding little purchase at home, seeks validation and influence in the global marketplace of ideas—no matter how unconventional the stage may be.
Truss’s journey from Number 10 to YouTube encapsulates the turbulence of post-Brexit British politics, the global reach of culture wars, and the enduring appeal of the comeback narrative—even when the odds, and the clocks, seem stacked against her.
