You know you’ve arrived as the prime minister-in-waiting when even Donald Trump has heard of you. Well, sort of. The name rings a vague bell. Call it a start in the new era of the not-so-special relationship.
On Sunday, the US president had the idea of announcing Keir Starmer’s resignation, long before the prime minister had got round to doing it himself. Trump likes to get ahead of the game. No time for losers, so best to dissociate himself from Keir as soon as possible. One day he might get round to dissociating from himself when he finally realises he lost the war with Iran.
Come Wednesday night, the Donald was just beginning to get to grips with the new kid on the block. Andy Whateverhisnamewas. Trump wasn’t too sure. All he knew was that he was “extremely liberal”. Which in Trumpspeak means someone who is too much of a wimp to get ICE agents to kill their own citizens.
And apparently Andy Thingy had once been mayor of … a town. Probably dressed up in fancy gear on public holidays. No. Manchester didn’t ring a bell. Was it somewhere near a golf course? Besides there was no point in making much effort because the UK “was dying”. There may well come a time when Trump is as familiar with Andy as he is with Sadiq Khan. But we’re not there yet. Sadiq lives rent free in what passes for Trump’s brain. Only on Wednesday he was again describing the London mayor as a “bad person” and “grossly incompetent”. Takes one to know one.
One person who very much had heard of Andy Burnham was Kemi Badenoch. And she wasn’t at all happy with what she saw. At prime minister’s questions on Wednesday, she had dismissed him as a “pair of eyelashes and a black T-shirt”. Imagine if a male politician had described a woman in the same way. Kemi probably thought she had nailed it. And if she had been talking of Keir, she might have done. Starmer can’t think on his feet. Would have either ignored her or posted a long message on X about how people had underestimated him all his life and how he was delivering for the country.
Burnham did the opposite. Just a five-second post on social media. A coy look at his T-shirt and a flutter of the eyelashes to camera with the words: “It’s dark blue actually.” Funny, self-deprecating and devastating. A wake-up call to the Conservative leader that she’s going to have to up her game. If she thinks she can get away with a few insults as she has done with Keir in recent weeks, then she’s going to crash and burn.
For the most part, though, Burnham has been happy to keep a low profile since his rather over-the-top arrival in Westminster on Monday when he was mobbed by Labour MPs. Partly because any handover of power is best done with some decorum and he didn’t want to completely overshadow the outgoing prime minister in his final weeks. Any more than necessary, that is.
But also, he needs to get his ducks in a row. The man who had been in such a hurry during the Makerfield byelection now finds he is short of time. He had imagined there might be a leadership contest, but all opponents have melted away. Instead of rivals, he only finds garlands in his way. He now has to choose his cabinet and work out what he’s going to do differently. Come Thursday he had retreated back to his constituency to be left in peace.
Others are left to deal with the fallout. Regime change comes at a price for the old guard. It’s not just Keir who will be out of a job. All dignity goes out the window as ministers fight to plead their relevance. How they have really been Team Andy all along. First in the line of fire is the chancellor. Rachel Reeves and Starmer always seemed to come as a pair. Buy one, get one free. But Rachel has been out and about, trying to sever the ties that bind. Her friends in the business world have been on the phone to Burnham allies, bigging her up. And on Thursday’s BBC Breakfast she couldn’t really explain how she had come to miss Keir’s resignation speech when it was taking place outside her front door.
A short while later, Reeves was to be found down the road doing a Q&A session with Sophy Ridge at the British Chambers of Commerce (BCC) conference. Rachel appeared miserable throughout. As if part of her knows she has no chance of keeping her job and has yet to find out if she will be offered a lesser cabinet post. And if so, would it be too humiliating to accept?
Reeves began by talking about her achievements. It felt very much as if this was an exit interview being conducted as a formality by the head of HR. Ridge ended by asking her what she thought her best qualities were before adding how brave she had been.
She was committed to the fiscal rules and so was Andy, Rachel mumbled. They could almost be the same person. She had backed his leadership campaign in 2015. Surely that had to count for something. But the longer it went on, the more it dawned on her that there would be no return invite from the BCC next year. Another chancellor would be doing this. After insisting that the fiscal rules already allowed for war bonds – in which case what was the problem? – she bowed out with as much grace as she could manage. The end may even come as a relief.
If Rachel had been demob unhappy, then Darren Jones was in a much more chipper place. Having shrouded himself in self-importance in the last few days, hinting he might contest Burnham for the leadership, he pompously declared he had spoken to Andy and been persuaded the economy was safe with him, then Dazza was much more like his old self at Cabinet Office questions in the Commons. Hardly even bothered to make a pitch to keep his old job. Qué será, será. He might not be here for long, he said in answer to one question. So he would leave his successor – whoever that might be – to answer it. All he knew was he was going to make sure he had one hell of a good summer.
That just left Al Carns. The junior armed forces minister who has been an MP for less than two years but has managed to convince himself he’s a genuine contender. He had posted the five questions he expected Andy to answer if he wanted his support. I’ve news for you, Al. No one cares. No one is going to read your questions. Least of all Andy. If you’re very lucky, you’ll be made a junior minister at Defra. For a laugh. And if you’ve any sense, you’ll be grateful for it.