He said it was ‘the change moment’ and, by gum, he meant it: Andy Burnham had at last discarded that terrible black T-shirt and black jacket he wore for the month-long campaign. At his victory shindig he wore a white polo shirt, untucked at the waist, hoping to disguise his moobs. And yet a brief outline of 56-year-old male nipple was glimpsed.

He could have been a middle-aged gent arriving at the carvery for his Sunday nosebag.

‘This was our last chance to change,’ explained Mr Burnham. Thank heavens he took it, and not just because Sir Keir Starmer may now be terminado. That black outfit must have been pretty ripe after all those doorstep visits.

‘Andy’, as everyone called him, arrived at the premises of Ashton Town FC (est. 1953) with his wife. If Marie-France Burnham looked uncertain it was understandable. What carnage will now ensue? Here was a bomber pilot’s wife in a Rattigan play, or Mrs Goliath bidding her husband adieu on the family doorstep c. 950 BC as he departed to give the Israelites a biffing.

A crowd of perhaps 30 whooping acolytes included several Labour MPs. Health minister Stephen Kinnock did well to get himself centre-camera for Mr Burnham’s short speech. Former Transport Secretary Louise Haigh was there, near-unrecognisable after a makeover. Her pink flash fringe has been replaced by something more demure, worn with a pair of Sunnie Mann shades.

Greenhorns such as York’s Luke Charters and David Baines from St Helen’s North stood alongside older clunkers such as Rusholme’s Afzal Khan and Bolton South-East’s Yasmin Qureshi, whom Sir Keir only just made trade envoy to Egypt. There’s gratitude for you.

Mr Burnham greeted them by clapping himself and giving a hug to Josh Simons, the former Blairite/Corbynite/Starmerite MP for Makerfield who ratted on Sir Keir by triggering the by-election. ‘You did something incredibly selfless,’ Mr Burnham told the tall Simons. If Mr Simons now lands, as rumoured, a £100,000 job in a Burnham No10 operation it may look slightly less the noble sacrifice.

But this, please, was a day for banana smiles and happy faces, not quibbles. At last they could see an end to the stodgy Starmer years. Mr Burnham spoke of creating ‘an economy that works for everybody’. They supped deep of this refreshing elixir, marvelling at, er, its brilliance, its wisdom, its novelty. ‘En Dieu Est Mon Esperance,’ as the motto of Ashton Town FC puts it. Rough translation: ‘Andy’s Our One Hope Of Keeping Our Seats.’

In the capital Sir Keir Starmer’s normally faultless quiff was looking a little loose around the moorings. One or two strands of hair were making a bid for freedom. But not the PM himself. ‘I haven’t spoken to Andy yyyyyet!’ he cried, giving the last word peculiar zest. 

He did not intend to resign. ‘I was elected to serve my country. There isn’t a leadership election.’ One of Sir Keir’s few loyalists, Steve Reed, tried a similar line on Sky News and was practically laughed out of the studio by presenter Sophy Ridge. She suggested he was in denial. ‘No, I’m not in denial,’ he denied.

Poor Nigel Farage was back in a field. A Grand National faller returned to its paddock. The Reform leader did an outdoors video clip saying he was not yet ready for the knacker’s yard. Of the Greens’ Zack Polanski, meanwhile, there was no sign. Nor has there been for weeks. Agreeing not to put up a fight in Makerfield has cost Mr Polanski his impetus. Can it be recovered?

Instead it was now all ‘Andy-Andy-Andy’. And Kemi. Mrs Badenoch’s unfancied Tory outfit won Aberdeen South by defending the oil and gas industry. She flew there for her own victory rally. ‘Makerfield was about one man’s job. Aberdeen South was about thousands of jobs,’ she said. Her remarks ended with, ‘shall we all go and have a drink?’

With an attitude like that she’ll never play for the England cricket XI.