"Yeah I can do a 24 hour show, no issues, I'll do one in July as a practise and then do the next one on Sealand for their 59th anniversary... Easy!"
Idiot.
As soon as that first practice show in July finished, I went from my office straight to my bedroom and fell asleep, sleep all over the place for days afterwards. That should have been the warning sign for what was coming.
The Journey Out
It dawned on me about a week before the real thing just how different this one was going to be, when Prince Liam reminded me to put anything electrical into a proper waterproof bag, just in case it took a little "swim."
I booked my hotel, packed the car, and drove east toward Harwich Harbour, on a Bank Holiday weekend, naturally. Nine hours from Cornwall. What a drive.
Kit checked into the hotel room, electrical gear gone over, shirt and tie ready, a bit of a kip. I woke up at 5am unnecessarily excited, even though I didn't need to be at the harbour until 10, so I went for a wander, grabbed something to eat, then sat waiting for the Royals to arrive like a kid on the first day of school.
Setting Sail for Sealand
The fishing boat was already moored, captain ready to go. Once we'd loaded up with food for the man, the myth, the legend, Michael Barrington, we set sail from Harwich toward the Principality.
"Have you remembered your passport?"
That's the thing I keep forgetting, Sealand is a completely separate country. After filling in my visa form, I settled in for the hour-long crossing, trying to take in as much of the experience as I could, despite actually vibrating with excitement. We had to pause briefly as the route out to Sealand crosses a major shipping lane, with vessels far, far bigger than ours, the kind you simply don't argue with.
What I hadn't realised, and had confirmed by Prince James, is that Sealand sits on the horizon as a tiny dot for most of that hour, no bigger than a little fingernail, until suddenly you're practically underneath it, its sheer size blocking out the sun and taking your breath away. It doesn't feel real, something that massive sitting in the middle of nowhere, seven miles out into the North Sea. Like a big cat jumping out of the bushes at you, with THE Michael Barrington firing up the diesel generator to power the winch that gets people, kit, and sometimes boats, onto the Principality.
The Swing, the Fortress and the Radio Studio
The swing that takes you up onto Sealand is, without doubt, the scariest thing I've done in a long time. I'm a massive rollercoaster fan, but this is another level entirely, being winched up while the brown water of the North Sea rolls around beneath you. One slip and it's a very chilly plunge.
You're greeted on the fortress by Mr Barrington, who, moments before, had just told Prince Liam off for being a little reckless on the swing. Not something I expected to witness, a royal getting his wrist slapped by the Head of Security.
A quick tour, then straight into the passport office to set up my laptop, monitor and lightbox, and I was off, 24 hours of waffle and music to the good people of Sealand via Discord.
Between talking, I'd throw on a few tracks and go wandering around the Principality with Prince Liam or James, checking out the towers, the deck, and attempting (and failing) to throw a ball over the helipad. There is now an American football somewhere in the North Sea. I still can't quite get my head around the fact there's a gym and a prayer room built into the towers of Sealand. Where troops once hid behind metre-thick concrete from strafing German bullets, there's now a meeting room.
I'd managed to bring Mikey Barrington a bottle of wine, some Tunnock's teacakes, and, because we're fancy, Ferrero Rocher. A quick bite of fajitas for tea with the Princes, then back to the radio.
And for anyone wondering, yes, I sat in THE jail cell. The sound of the sea sloshing around outside makes for a properly eerie place to sit and reflect on what put you there in the first place.
Poetry, Beans, and a Sealand Bolt
We ran a poetry competition for an official Sealand bolt, and a "biggest tin of beans" competition for a piece of the old ladder from the landing stage, all while raising more money for our chosen charity, Mind.
As the hours rolled on, I stepped outside into the night to look out over the water. Gentle waves lapping against the towers, flickering lights in the distance the only sign anything else existed out there. The quiet, the inner peace you find on our little country, is like nothing else on earth.
During the day, Princes Liam and James, along with Mr Barrington, were around to chat to. But there's something genuinely spooky about having no other soul, no other sound, and nothing out the window but miles and miles of sea.
Raising the Flag
Morning light started creeping through the curtains as my grip on reality began to loosen and my coffee stream turned to blood, and the others woke to raise the flag on the morning of the 59th anniversary. A moment I'll never forget. The forecast had been poor, windy, but for a few precious minutes the wind eased and the sun shone a little brighter. This little Principality has stood strong against critics, takeovers and major fires for fifty nine years, and is now slowly but surely spreading its word through sports teams, radio broadcasts, and the incredible work of its nobles and e-citizens.
The morning brought new visitors too, "Stonehenge," Sealand's Air Guitar hero, who dropped in for a whistle-stop tour and took a few questions live on the show.
The Escape
At hour 22, Prince Liam gave the word: "We're gone in 10 minutes." The weather had turned, the sea grown choppy, and the need to vacate was immediate. Everything packed into the waterproof bag, passport stamped in a hurry, and outside to find the boat already waiting.
A quick handshake with the Head of Security, and I was last into the swing heading down, the captain doing his best to hold the boat steady against a dancing landing zone. A jump onto the deck and we were away, watching Sealand slowly shrink from view in our wake. I'd kept a lager from the night before and celebrated a successful escape with a beer, hidden from the captain, obviously.
We got back around 1pm, and you'd think after being awake since 5am the previous day I'd have been shattered. Instead, excitement and caffeine kept me going long enough to call my Mrs and tell her everything, before finally sleeping a solid 14 hours, something I hadn't managed since my student days.
The Numbers
In total, we raised £750 for Mind from 24 hours of me talking nonsense and playing music. Genuinely incredible, for what started as one bloke saying "easy" without thinking it through properly.
What's Next for Sealand Sports
Next up on the Sealand Sports calendar was the three-sport weekender on 12th September 2026 in Milton Keynes and Wellingborough, the Seagulls Softball charity tournament against Swindon, Coventry and Milton Keynes, Supersonics Basketball, and three Seahawks American Football teams putting in their final training before Italy in October.
(Writing this just after that weekend happened, and I can confirm it was an absolute belter.)
Mike Ireland, Minister for Sport and Culture
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