Sir Richard Branson could be forgiven for appearing a little discombobulated on Tuesday morning.
In a globetrotting itinerary that would enrage Greta Thunberg and the green lobby, the 73-year-old flew from his private Caribbean island to Miami on Monday before boarding an overnight flight to Heathrow.
Within hours, Branson was back in the air to New York on the world’s first transatlantic flight powered by sustainable aviation fuel. From there, the Virgin Group founder was heading to Los Angeles and then to Australia.
It’s a punishing schedule for anyone, let alone a man well into his eighth decade on the planet. And it’s a sure sign that he has little interest in giving up the jetset lifestyle.
In the 1980s and 1990s, Branson was known as much for his world record attempts as he was for his business exploits, narrowly escaping death in hot air balloon and speedboat challenges. “The pure adventure side put the Virgin brand on the map… which has enabled us to do lots of other things on the back of it,” he says.
“But I don’t think I need to stick my neck out any more.”
Finally slowing down then? “F***ing hell, I only went to space,” he exclaims indignantly.
Dressed casually in a grey shirt, jeans and $150 blue Hoka trainers, Branson is generous with his time as a chat scheduled for 15 minutes drags on for nearly an hour at the bar on board the Virgin Atlantic Boeing 787 Dreamliner. But whether it is the arduous schedule or simply his age catching up with him, the lines on his forehead seem more pronounced.
“I’m in my 73rd year and I just can’t be everywhere all the time, though I try to be,” he says. “I’m at an age where I’ve got to keep fit and healthy. So I go kite surfing, I play tennis in the morning and evening, I hit the gym. I work hard and play hard.
Trips to Britain are increasingly few and far between. “I love visiting,” he adds. “I’m mainly visiting family — I’m that age. But I’m lucky they prefer visiting us. We’re lucky that we live in the most beautiful place in the world. We’re spoilt rotten.”
Branson is, of course, referring to Necker, his 75-acre haven in the British Virgin Islands. It was there that he was holed up with his children and grandchildren during the pandemic. As Covid swept across Europe and brought businesses such as Virgin Atlantic to a standstill, his reputation plunged amid claims that the billionaire was demanding aid from British taxpayers.
First, Virgin Group chairman Peter Norris wrote to the government urging ministers to provide financial support for the aviation industry. Then Branson offered to mortgage off Necker in return for UK taxpayer support.
A furious backlash from both sides of the political divide resulted. Brexiteers in Westminster needed little incentive to pile in after Branson repeatedly denounced the UK’s divorce from the European Union.
Branson has sought to correct the record, pointing out that he didn’t even know about the letter and stressing that in any case the plea was not solely for Virgin Atlantic but the wider aviation sector.
Nevertheless, the tycoon apparently doesn’t hold a grudge. Three Brexit-backing Tory MPs are enjoying his champagne on board the flight to New York and have been treated to upper-class seats. Branson, meanwhile, is sitting in the more modest surroundings of premium economy.
That is not to say he doesn’t hold grudges full stop. He continues to grumble about British Airways and its “dirty tricks” campaign in the 1990s that tried to put Virgin Atlantic out of business. The ruse involved BA staff impersonating counterparts from Virgin Atlantic and encouraging customers to switch flights.
When then BA chairman Lord King said that Virgin’s complaints amounted to a publicity stunt, Branson sued BA for libel. BA countersued, but the court found in Virgin’s favour, ordering BA to pay £3.5 million in compensation.
With his Covid calamities now behind him, Branson has been able to return to concentrating on his philanthropic exploits. Despite appearances, Virgin Group is run by chief executive Josh Bayliss, who in turn is supported by a nine-person senior management team that includes Branson’s daughter, Holly.
The 42-year-old who was on the historic flight, started as an intern in 2008 and has worked her way up the group to become “chief purpose and vision officer”. Among her roles is scrutinising the big decisions taken by her father’s firm.
Richard Branson say: “Ninety per cent of my time was launching not-for-profit organisations before Covid. Then 90 per cent of my time has been dealing with all the fallout from Covid. Now I’m back to launching new not-for-profits.”
Perhaps the most influential of these is The Elders, a non-governmental organisation (NGO) that Branson and pop star Peter Gabriel initiated in 2007 alongside Nelson Mandela. The group advocates on a broad range of issues, from promoting human rights to tackling HIV and Aids and global warming. It is led by former Irish president Mary Robinson and counts ex-UN secretary general Ban Ki-moon as deputy chairman.
The Elders recently condemned the actions of Hamas and Israel in the Gaza conflict, and Branson equivocates on the topic, saying only that he would align with the NGO’s statement.
Allegations of antisemitism recently engulfed fellow billionaire Elon Musk after he was accused of condoning a conspiracy theory on Twitter. And, again, Branson is non-committal. “I’m a friend of Elon’s. And I’m sure there are things he said in his life that he regrets. I haven’t spoken to him about this particular situation,” he says. Branson’s comments came just before Musk went on to tell advertisers on X/Twitter last week to “Go f*** yourself”.
The Briton is far more unequivocal on a variety of other topics, segueing from one to another unprompted, much to the chagrin of his public relations entourage. “I’ve been having major battles with the Singaporean government on them executing the [drug] mules. We’re just trying to get capital punishment abolished on a global basis,” he says.
Branson is a member of the Global Commission on Drug Policy, which also advocates for the decriminalisation of drugs.
“The war on drugs has been an abject failure for all my lifetime and a ghastly waste of human beings,” he says, fiddling with the sugar packet that came alongside a cup of decaffeinated tea. “If you go to Glastonbury [music festival], 70 per cent of people will take Ecstasy. The thing they should be sure about is that’s not going to kill them.”
And he saves a special rebuke for the Organization of the Petroleum Exporting Countries (Opec), whose 13 members include Iran, Saudi Arabia, Libya and the UAE. As Opec represents about a third of the global oil supply, the cartel in effect controls the price that the world pays for energy.
“I’ve never, ever understood how they can get away with it,” says Branson, adding that he has previously instructed lawyers to look into Opec and whether its powers can be challenged legally.
“There’s nothing to stop them making a killing on prices falling and prices going up. And they are basically screwing the consumers on a global basis… It shouldn’t be allowed. But I don’t think I can stop it because of the countries that are behind it.”
The pandemic may be behind him, but the impact on Branson’s personal wealth is a stark reminder of the money he lost to keep Virgin-branded businesses afloat.
His net worth is estimated to be $2.9 billion (£2.3 billion), according to Forbes magazine, the lowest for more than a decade; before Covid, his fortune fluctuated between $4 billion and $5 billion. In the depths of the pandemic, Branson was forced to sell down his shareholding in the space tourism business Virgin Galactic to bankroll other parts of the group; he now owns just 8 per cent of the US-listed business.
The share sale must have been all the more painful given that many observers believe Virgin Galactic is Branson’s favourite part of his empire. In 2021, he was on board the company’s maiden voyage, fulfilling a lifetime dream to go to space.
Costing as much as $450,000 per ticket, the first commercial flight launched in June this year, and the hope now is that Galactic will not be dependent on further financial handouts from investors.
“We don’t have the deepest pockets after Covid,” the billionaire remarks.
If space is the future for Virgin, trains are the past. Once one of the biggest operators on Britain’s railways, a two-decade-long tenure for Branson came to a shuddering halt in 2019 when he ceded control of the West Coast franchise running from London to Birmingham, Manchester and Glasgow.
“We were very, very proud of our 20 years in trains,” he says. “And I think I get lovely letters from people wishing us to come back.”
When Virgin began running a service on the west coast line, about eight million passengers used it annually. This had grown to 40 million by 2019, when the franchise was taken over by Avanti, whose own much-publicised problems — the operator has grappled with cancellations and disruption for more than a year — even prompted trade union leaders to beckon Branson back.
Virgin has recently been linked with launching services through the Channel Tunnel to rival Eurostar. Is this something that interests Branson? “I would never say never,” he says. “I would not be surprised if one day Virgin is not back on trains in some form or another.”
As the plane touches down at New York’s JFK airport, Branson charges to the front of the plane as it taxis to the terminal, ignoring the illuminated seatbelt signs, and grabs the intercom.
“Well hello, it’s Richard Branson — I just wanted to say welcome to New York,” he says. There’s a pause, as he works out exactly what he wants to say. “I’ve been involved in three attempts in the Atlantic. First of all in a boat, which sank and I was pulled out of the sea by a helicopter. Then in a balloon, which sank and I was pulled out of the sea by a helicopter. I think I was thinking about those [anecdotes] when I came on the speaker a moment ago. I am wonderfully relieved that we have got the whole way.”
So are the rest of the passengers.
