Andy Burnham's campaign launch featured thumbs-ups, a swaggering tummy, a Cool-Daddio dress code, hugs for Labour MPs, football banter, and self-basting cries of 'brilliant, mate!' It is eerie how similar the aspiring Prime Minister sounds to Paul Whitehouse's comedy-sketch character, The Brilliant Kid – a geeky Northern lad who lopes about, marvelling at the most obvious things.
Burnham summoned some 30 supporters to the car park of Stubbs Cross Community Club in Wigan for the launch of his Keir Starmer decapitation campaign, also known as the Makerfield by-election, which Labour has provoked to rid themselves of the Prime Minister. A poster-van behind him read 'Vote Andy For Us,' and hand-held placards repeated the message alongside a computer-graphics-style caricature of Burnham, possibly less jowly than the real thing.
'Hope is in the air!' shouted Burnham as he loped towards a bank of microphones. 'Can yer feel it?' This elicited a chorus of warbling affirmation. The hope was of being shot of the nasal knight, a new cause for a Labour movement that until recently insisted Sir Keir was a high-minded statesman who would govern for a serene decade. Now they openly scorn the PM as a doofus of the first water. One day they may turn on Burnham in the same manner. Politics is like that.
'I live here!' bellowed the man who clearly expects to soon reside at the SW1A 2AA postal code. 'I love this place.' Change, change, change: Brilliant Kid Andy, supremely cocky, hair brushed forward into a Caesar, must have said it a dozen times in his extempore speech. 'This is a change by-election,' he averred, meaning get rid of Starmer. 'This is a clarion call for change,' he continued. 'We need change to the economy.' That sounded ominous for Rachel Reeves.
Westminster was much attacked. Westminster had neglected Makerfield. Westminster needed shaking up. Wicked, nasty Westminster. 'We need to bring that change to Westminster!' quoth Andy, with such force that his eyeballs popped out from under his beautifully vaselined brows.
The innocent bystander would not have suspected that this assiduously scruffy chap attacking 40 years of political failure was himself a Privy Councillor, a longstanding Labour grandee who was a Westminster aide from 1997, served as an MP for 16 years, was a minister under Tony Blair, and sat in Gordon Brown's Cabinet. He is the ultimate machine politician, yet he attacks the Establishment.
Westminster was amply represented in the crowd. Among those cheering Burnham were Government Chief Whip Jonathan Reynolds and his deputy Mark Tami. These two magnificoes of the Westminster system did not quite say 'please don't sack us when you become PM' but it will have been understood. Also attending, uniformly in mufti, were Labour MPs Barry Gardiner, Chris Webb, Rebecca Long-Bailey, Kim Johnson, and a couple of others. I think I spotted James Frith, who became a science minister when Josh Simons had to be dumped after smearing journalists. Mr Simons then vacated the Makerfield seat for Mr Burnham and is now likely to be given a £100k job in Mr Burnham’s No10 operation. What a cosy world it is.
But fie on such scepticism! Mr Burnham promised to change everything. He enthused about nationalising buses and trains. He was thrilled to discuss river gauges in Makerfield. He told a childhood story about taking a Makerfield coach to London to watch Everton. 'I live here!' bellowed the man who clearly expects to soon reside at the SW1A 2AA postal code. 'I love this place. I love the people of this place.'
The gamble being taken by Labour and its careerists is that Ashton-in-Makerfield reciprocates that professed affection. We must hope they are right. Because it would be frightfully awkward – really terribly sticky – if it all went wrong and Makerfield voted for the plumber rather than the lifelong politico.
