Andy burnham

Welcome to the cabaret, Andy Burnham. Last year, the editor of this magazine wrote about ‘Weimar Britain’: the fear that political instability, economic turmoil and rising anti-Semitism was making our country as decadent and dangerous as inter-war Germany. As our sixth prime minister of the post-Brexit decade departs, and our seventh looms into view, we have developed a national addiction to perma-crisis, seemingly trapped in a game of ‘Topple the PM’. We are far from a January 1933 moment. But the joke isn’t funny any more. This turbulence is not inescapable, though. What is needed is a premier able to stay the course, to set out how they want to change Britain and to discover the drive and charisma to bring their party and the country with them.

There appears to be a missing chapter in the story of Andy Burnham. Depending on the whims of voters in Makerfield, Britain could soon have its first prime minister with a degree in English literature and its first Cambridge-educated premier since Stanley Baldwin. And while we have been treated to countless long reads on the so-called King of the North – his political philosophy, his years in Manchester and his apprenticeship in New Labour – his undergraduate years have barely been scrutinised. Burnham is tight-lipped about his Cambridge days (1988-1991). His comments over the years have been mostly limited to saying he had ‘imposter syndrome’ as he struggled to fit in at a university that was dominated, he felt, by private school students.

When the Labour party football team played a group of journalists at Loftus Road two years ago the hacks won 4-1. The politicians’ solitary goal came from a late penalty. When the referee pointed to the spot, the center-forward stepped up, elbowing well-known politicians such as Ed Balls, David Miliband and Sadiq Khan out of the way in his bid for glory. There was a notable absence that day. “Keir [Starmer] had been due to play, but he didn’t turn up,” a witness recalls. “If he had been there, he’d probably have grabbed the ball and there might have been a tussle.” Instead, Andy Burnham said: “This is mine,” and calmly slotted it into the corner. “It was a perfect penalty,” says the witness.

The first mention of Westminster came in a charter of 785, attributed to King Offa, granting land in ‘that terrible place’. The document was a forgery though, drawn up by 12th-century monks to make Westminster Abbey seem a site of holy terror. Even so, ‘that terrible place’ would strike most people today as a good description of SW1. Parliament has failed to cover itself in glory in recent years: the financial crisis, the expenses scandal, the Brexit wars, the prime ministerial merry-go-round, the unfair if unshakeable perception that our politicians are fiddling – with their finances, and possibly their staffers – while Britain suffers. No wonder, then, that politicians of all stripes have tried to boost their popularity by railing against Westminster.

It’s been another bizarre week in Westminster, with Sir Keir Starmer going about business as if everything is completely normal while a shadow leadership race to replace him ramps up in the background. But the absurdity of left-wing turmoil hit its peak yesterday when Andy Burnham officially launched his campaign to win the Makerfield by-election and take over as PM. In the car park of a sports and social club in Ashton-in-Makerfield, the Greater Manchester mayor was flanked by a cadre of MPs from Labour’s more left-leaning flank, including the Corbynista Rebecca Long-Bailey, Barry Gardiner and Charlotte Nichols. Liverpool City Region mayor Steve Rotheram was there. And so, too, was Jonathan Reynolds, the chief whip and man in charge of upholding loyalty to the Prime Minister.

When the Labour party football team played a group of journalists at Loftus Road two years ago the hacks won 4-1. The politicians’ solitary goal came from a late penalty. When the referee pointed to the spot, the centre-forward stepped up, elbowing well-known names like Ed Balls, David Miliband and Sadiq Khan out of the way in his rush to grab the glory. There was a notable absentee that day. ‘Keir [Starmer] had been due to play, but he didn’t turn up,’ a witness recalls. ‘If he had been there, he’d probably have grabbed the ball and there might have been a tussle.’ Instead, Andy Burnham said: ‘This is mine,’ and calmly slotted it into the corner. ‘It was a perfect penalty.