On the eve of Reform UK’s party conference in Birmingham, former culture secretary Nadine Dorries has defected from the Conservatives, declaring the party she served for more than three decades “dead.” The 68-year-old ally of Boris Johnson revealed the move in her Daily Mail column, saying she had endured “12 agonising months” of wrestling with the decision before concluding it was “time for action.”
Dorries argued that Nigel Farage is the only figure with the “answers, knowledge and will to deliver,” wrapping her announcement in a familiar message: time for change, time to “make Britain great again.” The timing is no accident. Reform wants maximum attention going into its annual showcase, and a high-profile Conservative-turned-Reformer delivers that in spades.
Her switch follows recent defections from senior Conservative figures including former party chairman Sir Jake Berry, former Wales secretary David Jones, and Dame Andrea Jenkyns. Individually, these moves sting. Collectively, they tell a story: the party that delivered Brexit in 2016 and a landslide in 2019 is bleeding voices who believe its mission and identity have drifted.
Reform’s leaders now head into conference with a tailwind. The party holds only four MPs, yet recent national polls have put it roughly 10 points ahead of the Conservatives. That gap shifts week by week, but the signal is clear: Reform has turned frustration over migration, taxes, and trust in politics into a durable protest vote—and is trying to convert it into something bigger.
Dorries’ political journey maps the Conservative Party’s own arc since 2010. First elected MP for Mid-Bedfordshire in 2005, she built her reputation on blunt cultural politics, loyalty to Johnson, and a knack for grabbing attention. In 2012 she lost the Tory whip after joining I’m a Celebrity…Get Me Out of Here! without permission, then later returned to the fold and rose under Johnson.
As culture secretary in 2021–22, she pushed a hard line on the BBC licence fee and backed plans to privatise Channel 4—moves that defined her as a totem of the party’s culture-war flank. After Johnson fell, she turned from minister to attack dog, writing a best-selling insider account that accused his rivals of treachery and blasting the current leadership as out of touch with the 2019 mandate.
Her career has also carried turbulence. In 2009 she was dragged into the expenses scandal after claiming £2,190 for a lost deposit on a rented flat. A year later, Parliament’s standards watchdog rebuked her for misleading constituents about how often she was in the constituency; she then said her blog was “70% fiction.” Those episodes hardened opinions. Admirers saw a straight-talker who refused to play by Westminster rules. Critics saw chaos and self-promotion.
Labour wasted no time reminding voters of that past. A party spokesperson said Dorries “helped kill” the Conservative Party by backing Johnson “through thick and thin” during the Downing Street lockdown parties saga—and warned that by joining Reform she is “unleashing the same chaos” on the country. Expect that line to feature heavily as Labour seeks to tie Farage’s insurgents to the Tory years many voters want to move on from.
Reform, for its part, gets a headline name who speaks the language of its base. Dorries’ message fits cleanly into the party’s core pitch: curb migration sharply, scrap net zero targets that drive up bills, cut taxes for workers and small firms, and overhaul the NHS to reduce waiting lists. She amplifies that agenda in a media market where name recognition still matters.
The bigger question is whether her move hurts the Conservatives where it counts. The battlegrounds are the post-industrial towns and Midlands seats that flipped to the Tories in 2019 and have been sliding since. Many of those voters liked Brexit, wanted visible change, and now feel they didn’t get it. Reform is fishing in that pond every day. A steady trickle of recognisable defectors keeps the water churning.
But there’s a hard ceiling: Britain’s first-past-the-post system punishes parties without concentrated support. Even a double-digit lead over the Conservatives in national vote share doesn’t guarantee dozens of seats unless Reform breaks through in clusters. That’s why the party is aiming its fire at specific regions—former “red wall” strongholds in the North, parts of the Midlands, and Wales—where it can make the maths work.
Within the Conservative family, Dorries’ departure revives old arguments. One camp wants a reset toward small-state economics and calmer leadership. Another says the party must reclaim its populist edge on culture and borders to stop Reform. Dorries belongs firmly to the latter, and her exit suggests she’s given up waiting for the Tories to move her way.
There’s also the Boris Johnson question. Dorries’ loyalty to him is not a footnote; it’s the through-line of her politics. Some allies of both camps whisper about a future alignment between Johnson and Farage. Analysts who watch both men closely say it’s unlikely—two commanding personalities, one stage—but the speculation will keep bubbling as long as the Conservative brand looks tired and Reform looks hungry.
What role Dorries will actually play inside Reform is still unclear. She’s no longer an MP, and there’s no announcement yet about standing for a seat. Campaign surrogate? Policy advocate on culture and media? A headline speaker who can fill halls and front TV panels? Any of those would fit. At 68, she may decide influence beats the grind of a new constituency fight.
The optics matter almost as much as the arithmetic. Her timing grabs the news cycle just as Reform sets out its stall in Birmingham. Expect the party to lean into momentum: crisp lines on migration and tax, attacks on “failed Tories,” and an appeal to voters who feel nobody in Westminster listens. Expect, too, a firefight with Conservatives who will cast Dorries as a serial provocateur chasing relevance.
For voters, the practical questions are simpler. If you want lower migration, faster NHS treatment, and a smaller state, do you trust Reform to deliver, or do you demand the Conservatives prove they’ve learned from the past five years? If you’re tired of drama, do you see Dorries’ leap as fresh energy—or more noise? Those are the choices Reform wants to sharpen, and the Conservatives will have to answer.
Watch for three things next. First, whether more Tory MPs or ex-ministers follow Dorries to Birmingham. Second, whether Reform can turn its polling lead over the Conservatives into local by‑election wins and a stronger ground game. Third, whether the Tories produce a clear offer that wins back their 2019 coalition instead of watching it fragment seat by seat.
One move doesn’t decide British politics. But this one lands at a sensitive moment: a restless right, a dominant Labour, and a Conservative Party torn over how to win again. By choosing her side now, Dorries has made life harder for the party she’s leaving—and handed a megaphone to the one she’s joining.