Microphones, Manure Arguments and the Confidence Habit: Gonerby's Public Speakers Are Getting Noticed

On a Thursday evening in the village hall, a 17-year-old is stood behind a lectern made from a pallet and a borrowed tablecloth. She has ninety seconds to convince a panel of three that the UK's planning system is the biggest threat to rural business. Her hands are shaking. Her argument is not.

She starts with a number. Then a story about a farm diversification project that took two years to get permission for a barn. Then a joke about a planning officer who asked whether a sheep was a permitted development. The panel laugh. She keeps going.

This is a practice session, not a final. But it is the sort of room where finals are made.

More than a village hall hobby

Gonerby YFC's public speaking and debating competitions are one of the club's quieter successes. There is no tractor, no lamb, no show ring. Just members, a microphone and a judge with a clipboard. And yet the club has produced a steady stream of county winners and national finalists over the past few years.

The competitions are run by the National Federation of Young Farmers' Clubs, with rounds at club, county and national level. Members can enter public speaking, after dinner speaking, brainstrust, situations vacant and debating. Each has its own rules, its own time limits and its own particular brand of terror.

'Public speaking is the one where you stand up and speak,' says club public speaking secretary Ellie Marsh. 'After dinner is the one where you try to be funny. Brainstrust is the one where you have to know everything. Situations vacant is the one where you pretend to apply for a job you'd never get. And debating is where you argue with someone and everyone pretends it's not personal.'

It is, occasionally, personal. In a good way.

The practice room

Tonight's session is focused on the county public speaking round. Six members are practising, ranging from 13 to 24. The youngest is working on pace. The oldest is working on not saying 'obviously' every third word. A judge from a neighbouring club has come to give feedback, which means everyone is trying slightly too hard.

The feedback is direct. 'You lost me at the second statistic.' 'That line is good, but you rushed it.' 'You said 'in conclusion' three times. None of them were the conclusion.'

No one takes it badly. That is the point of the room. By the time they get to a competition, the criticism is familiar. The nerves are still there, but they have somewhere to go.

'You learn that a pause is not a disaster,' says Marsh. 'You learn that if you forget your next line, you can just breathe and look at the judge. You learn that the room is not waiting for you to fail. It's waiting for you to say something worth hearing.'

What judges actually hear

The competitions are judged on more than confidence. Structure matters. Evidence matters. So does the ability to answer a question without waffling. In the senior public speaking competition, members have to deliver a speech and then take questions from the panel. That is where the real work shows.

Past winner Ben Thurlby, now studying agriculture at Harper Adams, says the question section was the making of him. 'I could learn a speech. Anyone can learn a speech. But when they ask you something you haven't prepared, you have to actually know your subject. That's when it gets interesting.'

Thurlby used the skills in his university interview. He also used them in a job interview for a placement with an agronomy firm. 'They asked me to explain a time I'd changed someone's mind. I talked about a debate I'd done on social media and farming. I got the placement. I don't think I'd have had the words without YFC.'

That translation is not a coincidence. Public speaking competitions are not just about public speaking. They are about assembling an argument, reading a room and staying calm when someone disagrees with you. Those are useful in a village hall. They are also useful in a council planning meeting, a farm sales yard, a university seminar and a job interview.

Beyond the final

The club is now trying to make the pathway clearer. There is a buddy system, where older members coach younger ones. There are practice sessions every fortnight. There is a plan to take a minibus to the county final so members can watch, not just compete.

'It's not about producing one star speaker,' says Marsh. 'It's about making sure that when a member has something to say, they can say it. That's the habit. The competitions are just the excuse.'

Back in the village hall, the 17-year-old finishes her speech. The panel asks a question about farm planning and she answers without looking at her notes. The judge nods. The room claps. She sits down, exhales and immediately starts writing notes for next time.

That is the confidence habit. It does not arrive fully formed. It is built, one Thursday night at a time.