Inside Scotland's school for butlers

Paisley is a once-proud industrial town. Its threads held the world together, the nearby car plant kept generations in work as did the internationally-renowned carpet factory where John Byrne learned to mix colour.

It’s also a town that’s famous for defiance. Paisley, since the early 19th century has been tough and class aware, revealing an angry voice so rebellious that Tory Prime Minister Benjamin Disraeli warned of its unions, "Keep your eye on Paisley".

So how can the town which once manufactured Robertson’s marmalade be manufacturing servants to supply the toffs of the world?

Well, it is. Rosset Bespoke Butlers operates from the town, a school for butler training set up by Simeon Rosset which sends its successful pupils out into the world to work for Arab princes, Russian oligarchs, Scots lairds and the occasional rock star.

Rosset, who has butlered for the likes of Tony Blair, Kylie Minogue and Quincy Jones, employs two full-time and almost 30 part time staff and his company has been running for six years.

Why choose Paisley as a base? Well, we come to the sheer incongruity of Jeeves and Woostering in the White Cart town later. But here at his home in Ralston, a suburb of cosy bungalows in the east end of the town, he rewinds on how he came to be a butler – and why the profession means so much to him. “I began working as a waiter and a pot-washer from the age of 14, in a Margate hotel where his mother was manager,” he says in soft voice, sounding genial and eager to please (which is what you’d expect in someone who is acutely tuned in to the needs of others).

“By the age of 18, I wasn’t sure what to do with my life but then I landed the job of restaurant manager at the incredible [12th century] Leeds Castle in Kent.

“The head butler noted what I was doing and suggested I join his staff, and he’d train me up. l became and footman, and loved the idea of being a butler, learning skills that were 100 years old. I really got caught up in the sense of history that came with the job.”

Yet, as a restaurant manager he’d had control, power. How could he surrender this to enter a world of deference and submission? “Well, in hospitality, unless you are at the very top, it’s a hard slog. And in butlering I could see the possibility for advancement. And I also liked the real challenge of being a butler, looking after Prime Ministers and Presidents. And the variety of the work.”

But, still, you’re paid to be acquiescent? “Of course,” he says, unriled. “But my clients, or principals as we call them, have been people at the top of their game, CEOs of oil companies, crown princes, rock stars. In terms of the challenges and rewards, it’s more akin to being a senior manager in a company.”

He adds, smiling: “And don’t we all answer to someone?”

You can see why an Arab prince or a pop star would employ Rosset. He’s calm as a summer pond. You just know he can think on his black-brogued feet. “You can’t be stressed out. Ever. At least, not on the surface. We’re like swans, paddling like hell under the water.”

Rosset offers an early example of hard paddling when his diplomacy skills were tested to the limit. “I worked at Leeds Castle during the preliminary Northern Ireland peace summit conferences, and I was in charge, looking after 100 or so dignitaries, keeping the likes of Tony Blair happy.

“We also had Gerry Adams and Ian Paisley to look after but neither would agree to be in the same room as the other. I had to instruct staff to move one out of the room before the other would enter.”

He grins: “It was a question of gently steering them where we wanted them to go, yet let them think they were in control. And at this time I realised I wanted this to be my permanent career.”

Rosset went on to work for a huge range of employers. Is it different looking after a politician than a rock star, for example? “Oh yes!” he exclaims. “With rock stars you’re dealing with their parties, a fast-paced life. And they sometimes like to flaunt the fact they have a butler. It’s a symbol of success. Politicians, however, tend to be more discreet, subtle.

“Business people are also different. They want to have their big parties, but in private.” His smile is a little furtive. “They don’t want the shareholders to know what they’re spending.”

The most demanding principles, he says, are the Russians. Is this because they are new money? “Yes, and they’ve often killed off most of the old money. But then I’ve looked after some Russian billionaires who’ve been some of the nicest people you’ll ever meet.

“And the ‘old money’ you tend to look after these days turns out to be Arab, who’ve had the great wealth for several generations.”

Rosset won’t reveal detail of what the butler saw, or name those whom he’s worked with for a long time. “Those are the ones who will get scared – because I know too much.” But he will say he’s short-termed with the likes of Bono, Kylie, Sir Cliff Richard and Quincy Jones.

Did he have to contend with groupies much in the pop world? “Oh yes,” he smiles. “You have to manage that whole situation.” He laughs: “Cliff Richard had the most groupies of them all, and the most committed of any I’ve ever seen.”

Rosset adds that not only do each of his principals need to be looked after differently, sometimes the same person needs looking after in a different way. “For example, the night before you could be with them at a party. The next day they’re with their wife and children and the following day you could be with them on their private plane or yacht.”

Has this prince of butlers been shocked by the wanton hedonism he’s witnessed? (He grew up in the poor corner of Kent, his parents having split.) “Well, I’ve seen a few sights,” he says, with the calm understatement that would have made Upstairs Downstairs’ Mr Hudson proud. “Although I’ve heard incredible stories from older butlers about the 1980s and the orgies.”

He grins: “Since the noughties things have become less naughty. But I did look after a Russian oligarch who, at 4am danced on the roof of his Lamborghini, wearing just his boxer shorts after swimming with a load of young girls who were now cheering him on.”

I’m guessing he wasn’t too worried about a little scratching? “I don’t think he cared. In fact, that reminds of one guest leaving a party after having had too much to drink the night before.

“I politely suggested he may not wish to drive and I said I’d at least drive his car through the very narrow gates. He refused my offer with an angry voice saying no one but him drove his Lamborghini Murcielago. So he got into the car and proceeded to drive it right into a stone wall.” His eyes offer a mischievous twinkle; “But as a butler you don’t judge, you simply order them a taxi.”

He must have a very tough tongue, given the times it’s been bitten over the years? “Yes, it’s not the sort of job in which you can go to HR and complain. For example, I once worked for a lady who had a party for 20 guests and I opened eight bottles of wine. It wasn’t all drunk and she insisted I should pay for the wine. I didn’t work for her again. There are those who test you in the beginning, to check out your character. And there are the eccentrics.

“One lady had a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice at the same time every day, but one afternoon she said ‘Simeon, you know I hate orange juice!’ I replied, ‘My mistake, madam. Can I get you something else to drink?’

Are butlers asked to squeeze toothpaste, as it’s claimed Prince Charles expected of his staff? “I know some who will clip their clients' toenails if asked. Personally, no one could pay me enough to look after their toenails. But in general terms, there is no job that’s too big or too small. The principals don’t often grind the butlers into the ground. They are so hard to replace.”

Rosset, at 37, loves this anachronistic life, playing out a role which was created in another time. “You may be shooting or fishing with princes and find it so enjoyable, or working at a party on a yacht. When I looked after Quincy Jones he told me fantastic stories of his world. It was delight to look after him and be trusted with his tales.”

Does he become friends with his charges? “Perhaps ‘friends’ isn’t the right word but you certainly become friendly. And sometimes you feel like their family. But you always have to remember there’s a line you can’t cross. Some butlers forget this – but not me. For example, I don’t sit in the presence of my clients. That’s not because they don’t want me to. It’s because I remember the protocol, the rules of engagement.”

Are his clients generous? “I’ve had some lovely presents from principals."

He says they prefer giving gifts than cash as it shows they care more. "But I do know of one butler who had been working with an Arab prince and when they parted for the last time expected a tip, given how generous the prince had been to others. But as he drove the prince to his private jet for the last time – nothing. He wondered what he had done wrong.

“At the very last minute, he said to the prince, ‘What will I do with the car?’ And the prince replied, looking at the new Range Rover, 'Keep it, it’s yours'."

Does he have a problem with this conspicuous flaunting of excess wealth? “I don’t have a problem with the wealthy who spend their money, those who have a lot of staff and they pay them well. I have a problem with the Warren Buffetts of this world who don’t spend it.”

Yet, if he loved the life of serving the super-rich, yachting and flying around the world with oligarchs and princes, why move to training up others to do same? “The nature of the job is to go wherever – and for whenever. My last employer, one of the most successful businessmen in the Middle East, would say: ‘Pack the bags, we’re on the yacht tomorrow. Don’t know when we’ll be back.’ And that works to a certain extent when you’re married, but not when you’re married with children.”

Rosset’s life change came on meeting his Paisley-born wife Claire, an architect, in Belgravia. They now have a toddler daughter, Eva. “I knew I couldn’t do the job to the extent I’d had.

“But at the same time I realised I’d been working with people who loved to entertain at their shooting estates or castle in Scotland; pretty much everyone of a level has the ski lodge in St Moritz, the yacht in Monaco and a shooting estate in Scotland. Yet, every time I came to Scotland we struggled to find local staff.”

He figured on training them up himself. “I knew that Scots can make great butlers. They have just the right level of cheekiness and respect.”

Rosset also acts as an facilitator for butlers looking for work. “I try not to be like a recruitment agency. That’s too formal. What I like to do is put the right people with the right person.”

Business, up until the virus crises, has been great. His highly compressed courses run for two to four weeks, depending on the applicant’s previous work/life experience. It costs around £1000 a week to learn the likes of party planning, dining etiquette and security. “I don’t know of another course which offers sessions from spreadsheets to snipers,” he says smiling. He offers a free week a year for those who can’t afford it.

Butlering, he says, can be very lucrative. “The best butlers are very highly paid. The Brits are considered the best, followed by the Swiss. And there are many in Saudi earning 10k a month, tax-free. And there is also a demand for female butlers. Lots of Middle Eastern women want to be looked after by women.”

He smiles. “Maybe the new Alfred in the Batman movie will be a woman. That would be great for business.”

What of setting up shop in Paisley, the Ferguslie Park-Gosford Park contrast? “Well, butlers are supposed to be working class. And why not see Paisley as a base? It has great access, people come to us from all over the world [his No 2 is from Brazil) and it’s a lot less expensive than an office in Edinburgh.”

His Paisley base has been so successful Rosset is planning to expand. "I want to open an office in Beijing, with one of my former trainees and London.”

Rosset laughs: “The business ad will look like the side of Del Boy’s van; ‘Rosset Bespoke Butlers; ‘Beijing, London. Paisley’.”

It’s hard to see Rosset’s business not thriving. The super-rich always survive, particularly in times of crises. And Rosset is sharp and ready and willing to please those who pay for the pleasure. He didn’t offer a cup of tea during chat (perhaps he’s enjoying a break from serving up) but the butler’s butler knows implicitly the role.

“People said to me this business wouldn’t work in Scotland but what they don’t know of is the huge wealth here. I’ve seen the estates and castles that are not publicised and they look like Versailles. There is no shortage of serious money.”

It seems a great job – for those who can hold back a laugh when some clown wraps his supercar around a wall, and be wrong even when you’re right. “That’s it,” he says. “For the right person it’s a fantastic life.”

http://www.rossetbespokebutlers.com/