In the summer of 2010, with Labour newly ejected from government and Britain gripped once again by X Factor mania, Westminster was already turning its attention to the party’s next big contest.
I had arrived at Andy Burnham’s large office in Parliament to discuss a very different kind of audition: his expected bid to succeed Gordon Brown as Labour leader. Yet the subject that seemed to light him up most was not the future of the party, but X Factor judge Cheryl Cole.
When I asked whether his loyalties lay with Cheryl or fellow judge Dannii Minogue on the ITV hit, Burnham’s eyes brightened. “Cheryl is gorgeous, isn’t she,” he said.
“I’d pick her over Dannii every time. She’s beautiful, and she seems so grounded.”
Reflecting on the behaviour of Cheryl’s former husband, ex-footballer Ashley Cole, Burnham shook his head and added that he could not understand how anyone could have been unfaithful to her.
It made for a curious exchange with a politician who, even then, was plainly aiming high. At that point, the prospect of Andy Burnham in Downing Street must have felt remote — but his ambition was hard to miss.
During that interview, conducted when he was shadow health secretary for a tabloid newspaper, another impression came through just as strongly. Burnham appeared unusually eager to project charm, confidence and a certain ladies’ man image. At one point, he even encouraged me to take a closer look at his eyelashes — more on that later.
Settling back into a green sofa with his hands tucked behind his head, he began talking expansively about old girlfriends — and how that lively romantic past had started to spill into his life in politics.
It was the summer of 2010 and X Factor fever was sweeping Britain. And in Andy Burnham’s office, Katie Hind had gone to interview him about a very different talent contest
‘I had lots of girlfriends when I was younger, I was pretty popular,’ he gloated. ‘It is becoming quite difficult now as when I go canvassing in my constituency, ex-girlfriends of mine from when I was younger open the door.
‘It’s very strange feeling to think, “Oh I used to kiss her.”’
One former girlfriend, he confided, even turned up at his constituency office. ‘It brought back a few memories,’ he winked.
At the time, Andy was keen to present himself as a personable, as well as capable, politician to win over the Labour Party, which by then had been swept from power. In the leadership race, he was up against Ed and David Miliband, Ed Balls and Diane Abbott.
None of them could claim to be the ‘Make-Up Minister’ – a nickname he’d coined himself owing to his lengthy eyelashes. But were they adorned with mascara, as many claimed?
He told me to examine them a little more closely. It definitely looked to me as if he was familiar with the Maybelline counter.
And then came the name-dropping of his celebrity chums.
Last week many were surprised when Burnham chose to be interviewed by former Match Of The Day host Gary Lineker rather than a political heavyweight.
Andy Burnham has been with his wife, Marie-France, since 1989, after meeting her while they were both students at the University of Cambridge
But I wasn’t. Because that day in 2010, Andy made it clear he loved a celeb. He boasted he was close to David Beckham and Simon Cowell, and called Wayne Rooney a ‘pal’.
I’m told Andy is still known as a celebrity ‘hanger-on’ today. He recently campaigned with actors Hugh Grant and Steve Coogan – both leading figures in campaign group Hacked Off, which aims to impose restrictions on the Press – while football pundits Jamie Carragher (who donated money to his 2010 campaign) and Gary Neville are friends.
He’s said to be keen to ‘be in with’ Oasis singer Liam Gallagher, and knows Elbow’s Guy Garvey, whose song One Day Like This was the soundtrack to a video to promote his Makerfield by-election push.
He’s also said to get on well with New Order, and got permission to use their hit True Faith at the end of his first speech as Labour leader on Friday. They likely did not give permission for the cringeworthy dance moves.
Talking of dancing, in 2010 Andy couldn’t wait to describe his past as a party animal at Manchester’s Hacienda nightclub. He was dying to come across as cool but not so edgy that it would affect his career.
When I’d asked if he had ever had a taste for drugs, he said he’d gone there for the ‘music and alcohol’, adding: ‘I was never the most sober at the party.’
After he lost his bid to become Labour leader to Ed Miliband, he invited me for a coffee at Westminster. There he gave me a scoop – he was planning Ed’s stag do.
Claiming that – without him – the groom-to-be would likely opt for an evening of Scrabble, Andy was planning a pub crawl along the Circle Line, a game where drinkers visit pubs near each of the 27 stations on the Underground line.
Whether it went ahead I never found out, although Andy mused that Ed ‘seemed a bit hesitant’.
Today, with Andy in charge of a whole load more than just a stag do, I imagine the feeling remains.
