93% Club

Oxfordshire, March 2026

I’m a working class boy from Grimsby. My dad lost his job in the paper mill when it shut down and we moved to Tamworth, just north of Birmingham, when I was seven. I went to a village primary school and then a comprehensive school where I achieved “okay” A-levels. I was the first person in my family to go to university and thanks to the fabulous start my parents gave me and my bother, and a very supportive family, I’ve done alright for myself.

I wrote recently about the challenge that AI could bring to entry-level jobs and what that might mean for social mobility. If those roles become scarce, the ones that remain will inevitably go to graduates from a few elite universities – and, by implication, to those who are privately educated. The comments that followed were a mixture of despair and hope, but the more I see where AI is taking us (led by the tech billionaires), the more I find myself leaning toward the former.

For someone like me – who worked hard and had a supportive home – I needed a third piece of the puzzle to make things come together: a break.

My first break came from my sponsoring company, who took me on despite my A-level grades not quite being good enough. That persuaded the University of Nottingham to let me in – again, despite my grades. I’m not sure how many of those opportunities would happen today. I’m also not sure how many sponsorships are available to comprehensive school kids who don’t have someone to guide them through the process.

Those entry-level jobs that AI is about to erode are exactly where I first saw the places I could go. They were where I – like so many before and after me – got to see opportunities that I was previously unaware of.

I’m deeply thankful for the many other breaks that have come my way. They’ve all been different but share one common thread: someone prepared to help, guide or mentor me to take the next step. I’ve been lucky to meet and work with many genuinely supportive people, and I owe them a great deal. Their advice, guidance, encouragement and, occasionally, a shoulder to cry on have helped shape who I am.

Over the weekend, I read a brilliant – if upsetting – Substack article that made me reflect on my own journey and just how lucky and grateful I am. It really forced me to consider what I’ve achieved with the right help, guidance and encouragement, and how many people don’t have that. Someone to believe in you. Someone to be a role model. Someone to share their experience and help you see the next step. It was the kick up the arse I needed to join the 93% Club.

The 93% Club began in 2016 at the University of Bristol, when Sophie Pender created a Facebook group for state-school students who felt out of place in a university culture dominated by privately educated peers. The name reflects the fact that about 93% of people in the UK are educated in state schools. The club grew out of a desire to build community, challenge class inequality, and improve access to networks and opportunities for those students. It now connects seasoned professionals with early-career state-school alumni, giving them access to networks and guidance like the ones I benefited from.

I’ve been mentoring through the Chartered Management Institute (CMI) for a while, which I find immensely rewarding and hugely instructive. The 93% Club is another way for me to give back some of the amazing support I received along the way.

I’ll turn, as I often do, to the Bard of Barking, Billy Bragg, to sum it up: “Neither in the name of conscience, Nor the name of charity, Money is put where mouths are, In the name of solidarity.”