It may sound a little naff, but Manchester is a city I’m genuinely proud to call home. Not least because the city where I was born, and where I still live, has been the backdrop to so many game-changing moments in history.
Manchester deserves better than becoming the fall guy because of one man’s misplaced determination to prove that government is not solely the preserve of Westminster
Both the suffrage movement and the Vegetarian Society were founded here (our causes are nothing if not varied). The world’s first stored-program computer was built in the city, while Manchester also gave birth to modern chemistry, nuclear physics, and stood at the forefront of the Industrial Revolution. Oh, and we gave the world Liam and Noel Gallagher too.
Given such a lustrous legacy, it’s hard not to feel resentful as Andy Burnham threatens to turn the city into something of a joke. For if, as seems increasingly likely, he becomes prime minister in a few weeks’ time, the recently crowned Makerfield MP plans to establish a northern No. 10 in Manchester – a risible, unworkable notion that reduces my hometown to a performative piece of score-settling gimmickry.
How can such a move be anything other than a joke when it makes no practical sense? Does the city’s former metro mayor have no grasp of the constitutional reality of being prime minister? It’s not some plum executive gig in which the holder can choose to work – or govern – from home. The role is anchored in Westminster, with cabinet meetings and sessions in the House of Commons.
Then there’s the sheer inefficiency of it all. As a regular on the Manchester-London Avanti West Coast line, I can confidently testify to wasted hours through delays, cancellations and laughable excuses (I was once decanted at Tamworth station because of a broken windscreen wiper – a pain for me, a security nightmare for a PM).
It’s also logistically absurd to have two sets of advisers 200 miles apart, each claiming to speak for the prime minister. The scope for communication breakdown is obvious. And it will be Manchester’s name that will be rubbished in any fallout from this unnecessary split of authority.
What, too, of the cost of establishing a northern No. 10? Taxpayers in Manchester are already footing a £4 million bill for the by-election to replace the metro mayor and to pay the price of Andy Burnham’s ambition. It’s impossible to know what the final cost of this seismic relocation will be. Could it become another HS2: a grand project swamped by spiralling costs and diminishing public confidence? If so, it will once again be Manchester that will be one the butt of public displeasure.
The irony is this tarnishing of Manchester’s name comes at a time when the city is enjoying an extraordinary renaissance. Its economy is growing at an annual rate of 3.1 per cent – roughly twice the pace of the UK.
Living here I’ve watched this metamorphosis unfurl in real time. Fag ends of the city, once no-go areas, have been transformed into vibrant neighbourhoods, thrumming with places to eat and cool places to stay. And there are constant new projects in the pipeline, such as the construction of Nobu Manchester: a £360 million luxury 76-storey skyscraper which will be home to a hotel, restaurant, and the UK’s first Nobu-branded residences. Coronation Street is clearly in the rear-view mirror.
For all these reasons and more, Manchester deserves better than becoming the fall guy because of one man’s misplaced determination to prove that government is not solely the preserve of Westminster.
Yet most grievously, this is what Burnham is doing, compounding the issue by clumsily badging his vision ‘Manchesterism’.
The former metro mayor may think this is smart shorthand for, in part, moving power away from Westminster. Most likely, Manchesterism will descend into satire. The name will be memorialised as Burnham’s failed attempt to bring together hard left-wing spending promises with business and opportunity.
The prospective PM has also made the city a flashpoint for growing political jealousy, which again does little for its reputation. Understandable, of course, since an aggressively northern-focused narrative could easily mean small, rural or coastal communities miles away from Manchester are overlooked. Equally, the northern No. 10 vanity project could mean pressing crises such as spiralling public debt and the cost of living are overlooked all because energy is diverted into shuttling civil servants up here.
Manchester already has its own Downing Street, located in Ardwick, just near the city centre. It’s an unremarkable road but at least it’s authentic. Unlike the planned performative postcode and grandstanding plans of Andy Burnham.
The man dubbed the King of the North may believe he’s acting for the best. But the reality is he’s making our city a joke. And a bad one at that.
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