In cricket, a batsman who completes a century is rewarded with a standing ovation. Andy Burnham’s first 100 days as Prime Minister, however, are unlikely to inspire quite the same celebration.
Instead, the figures attracting attention are rising questions, mounting doubts and swelling debt. Even Labour’s once-flat poll ratings have unexpectedly begun to climb. It is hard to believe that only 100 days ago Sir Keir Starmer, the party’s deeply unpopular leader, was being ushered out of Downing Street.
Starmer already feels like a distant memory, as do several of his senior allies: Lord Hermer, the high-pitched specialist in international law who served as Attorney General; Rachel Reeves, the Chancellor whose warnings repeatedly failed to materialise; and David Lammy, the television quiz contestant who apparently believed Henry VII followed Henry VIII.
Strangely, one almost finds oneself missing them.
Then came Andy Burnham, the Manchester mayor with a hint of daytime television glamour. His devoted mother was present in Downing Street to welcome him, while his equally supportive wife, Frankie, left her marketing directorship at an electric-vehicle charging firm to focus on backing her husband. The comparison with Jackie Kennedy practically wrote itself.
Burnham, a former Cabinet minister under Gordon Brown, had spent so long away from Westminster that his return initially felt fresh. His broad Manchester accent, forward-brushed Caesar haircut and preference for black casual clothing set him apart from Starmer. He was less stiff, though perhaps not obviously more cerebral.
The team he assembled around him did little to raise expectations.
Burnham, a former Cabinet minister under Gordon Brown, had been away from national politics for so long that his return seemed novel. He differed from Starmer and appeared less uncomfortable, writes Quentin Letts
After his victory, Burnham casually declared that the country was entering an era of sweeping change. His first practical adjustment was a new pair of running shorts, after the old ones had revealed rather more hairy thigh than intended
His deputy, Louise Haigh, brought an intimidating, pub-landlady energy to proceedings, particularly in her dealings with the less impressive Lucy Powell. The pair could have wandered straight out of an EastEnders storyline.
There was also something curious about the claim that Burnham was a dependable pair of hands. Why, then, did he place John Healey in charge of the Treasury, given that Healey’s resignation as Defence Secretary had contributed to Starmer’s downfall? It inevitably raised questions about whether the two men had been coordinating their moves for some time.
More puzzling still was the appointment of Ed Miliband, with his distinctive appearance and combative reputation, as Foreign Secretary. Some assumed that moving him away from the energy brief would make it easier for Labour to retreat from its Net Zero commitments. Yet Miatta Fahnbulleh, the new Secretary of State, has proved nearly as committed to green policies.
Miliband, meanwhile, has appeared to generate a series of diplomatic headaches, including a handshake with a representative of Iran’s hard-line regime and sanctions directed at Israel over activity in the West Bank.
Benjamin Netanyahu’s government responded by backing Argentina’s long-standing claim to the Falkland Islands.
Another foreign-policy success for Miliband, apparently.
After winning the Makerfield by-election on June 18 with a promise not to revive the arguments over Brexit, Burnham announced that the country was ready for fundamental change. His first visible reform was less ideological: a replacement pair of running shorts, because the old ones exposed an unfortunate amount of inner thigh.
He also made the bold decision to establish a second Whitehall base in Manchester. Branded ‘No10 North’, the office opened with considerable fanfare, including an appearance by the country’s senior civil servant, Dame Antonia Romeo, who fussed over Burnham with the enthusiasm of an overeager dog.
Since that launch, ‘No10 North’ has largely vanished from the headlines. Its clearest early impact on the economy appears to have been the expense of sending London-based officials north by train.
Because Parliament went into recess almost immediately after he took office, the new Prime Minister enjoyed a long and relatively relaxed summer. Within a fortnight of entering Downing Street, he had set off on an overseas break.
The public had been promised a month-long ‘national listening tour’. Images showed him in Sheffield placing oat milk into a shopping bag bearing the slogan ‘Feeling Jammy’. After that, however, the so-called ‘I’m Not Listening Tour’ gradually petered out.
The new man’s policy positions were as skimpy as his running shorts. In his first speech outside No10 (the one in London) he said he would end rough-sleeping.
Having walked through central London, Liverpool, Brighton and Birmingham at night in recent weeks, I’d say there is little sign of that.
Mr Burnham has boasted of lowering living costs. Prices have in fact risen since June. He wants to build more homes. The housing market has bombed. He has promised re-industrialisation. In recent days a major AI data centre planned for Loughton, Essex, has been scrapped owing to grid delays.
How does he respond to these pratfalls? Ignores them! Sails onwards, fluttering his eyelashes. And it seems to be working. Opinion polls suggest a Labour bounce of several points since Sir Keir was turned into a tube of Uhu.
Polls hypnotise politicians but how accurate a guide are they to election results? Theresa May went into the 2017 general election some 20 points ahead and blew that lead. In general election campaigns, policies may matter more than eyelashes.
What, if anything, does Andy Burnham actually think? Exactly how does he intend to get tramps off the streets, minimise planning delays, incentivise manufacturers and cut household costs?
No one knows, perhaps not even he.
Aides have briefed this and that but details are always elusive. After the past 100 days we know no more about his costed proposals than we did when he sashayed into the Commons on June 22 to take the oath as the new MP for Makerfield.
Maybe that will change tomorrow with the Budget. Don’t count on it. Labour MPs have little appetite for cutting our ruinous welfare spending.
One of Burnham’s former economics advisers, Andy Haldane, has said that unless welfare is reduced we could have a re-run of the Liz Truss mini-Budget. The need for action is intense.
Will urgent decisions follow? Or will we instead be told there is going to be ‘a conversation’?
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On one of his first prime ministerial engagements Mr Burnham visited a care home in north London where we were told his Government would hold ‘a big conversation about national care’.
The PM did say in his conference speech – the one in which he cried about his late father – that he would break the triple-lock on pensions. Mind you, that will not happen until April 2030 at the earliest. Urgency would appear to be lacking.
Two days ago, Mr Burnham, having broken his by-election promise and reopened the Brexit question, said he wanted ‘an honest conversation’ about our returning to free movement with the European Union. When a politician speaks of his ‘honesty’, count the spoons.
As for ‘conversations’, they are easier than rigorous prime ministerial despatch.
As a parliamentary performer so far he has been unstirring. From my Commons gallery perch I can see behind the Speaker’s chair. When Mr Burnham enters, milling MPs do not recoil or tingle as they have done with earlier PMs.
He looks at the floor as he walks. He does not bother much with his briefing notes. Nor does he weigh his words obviously before spooning out responses, writes Quentin Letts
He looks at the floor as he walks. He does not bother much with his briefing notes. Nor does he weigh his words obviously before spooning out responses.
It is as if he is unfazed by his high office, little fussed. One of life’s amblers.
Domestically in the last 100 days, little has been done. Globally the same period has seen extraordinary upheavals. Donald Trump’s presidency has spiralled towards likely mid-term election defeats.
The US President has done a smelly diesel deal with Moscow while his ally Elon Musk, or someone close to him, fiddled about with the Starlink satellites and made it harder for Ukraine to defend herself against Russia’s bombardment of Ukrainian civilians.
The White House also called for Kiev’s President Zelensky to be toppled. The doughty, diminutive Zelensky is three times as big a man as Trump or Vladimir Putin but no one in the Burnham Government had the guts to say so.
With the Middle East unstable; oil and gas prices have gone haywire, diesel reaching £2 a litre in Britain, with inevitable consequences for inflation. Argentina, encouraged by Benjamin Netanyahu and an unhinged Trump, has threatened the Falklands.
Moscow has rattled its warheads and snooped on our sea-bed cables.
And Europe has burst into flames twice. When summer fires broke out across the Continent our environmentally-pure Government tutted. Then came violent protests in France, Germany, Italy, Portugal and Albania, with city centres smashed and torched. The unrest triggered racism and vigilante fightbacks. Andy Burnham said almost nothing. A shrew makes more noise.
When he did have a chance to appear alongside Mr Trump, it did not go well.
The two met briefly at the United Nations in September. Mr Burnham clutched his legs, cast beseeching looks to Ed Miliband and generally looked tiny. In foreign policy, the blokeish Mancunian thing doesn’t work. Rival statesmen just scent weakness.
Brussels, listening to Mr Burnham’s prostrate, ill-thought-through come-hithers, must think once-proud Britain has surrendered. Labour supporters don’t mind this. They never liked British sovereign power. Voters may be more discerning.
Why, therefore, do current polls seem to favour this shallow scrutiny-dodger?
Well, those eyelashes have been putting themselves about on social media. Mr Burnham has done numerous TikTok videos. He has met – roll the drums, please – teenage influencers and been on something called Gogglebox.
He has talked about pork scratchings and Twiglets and football (although he becomes batey if asked about Manchester City and its financial scandal).
He made a video with ‘Bus Aunty’, a woman who is keen on double-decker buses. Mr Burnham is himself a fan of buses, although nowadays he must rough it in the back of an armour-plated Range Rover.
He even did podcasts with the football commentator Gary Lineker and with Alastair Campbell. More rigorous interviewers were not granted such access.
He has also proved good at slogans. His conference tagline was ‘hope again’, tacit recognition that Labour under Sir Keir became embogged in glumness. Hope is never a bad thing for a politician to embrace.
With the Greens in disarray, Marxist types may be drifting back to Labour now that Mr Burnham has wrenched it Leftwards on Israel and the EU. Labour MPs are happier.
The same cannot be said of a country which has never been taxed more. Youth unemployment has soared above European rates thanks to Labour’s tax hikes on employers. Domestic fuel prices are hellishly high, in part thanks to Net Zero.
Business confidence has dropped like a dead snipe. And with Parliament having resumed, Mr Burnham is finding it harder to dodge questions.
When Kemi Badenoch harpoons him he wails about his desire for ‘problem-solving not point-scoring’. What happens if the problems, such as employment and energy costs, are being caused by his party’s policies?
Perhaps we will learn more tomorrow. Not that Mr Burnham will be to the fore. Budget Day belongs to a Chancellor.
The PM is just a front bench adornment, two set of eyelashes sitting mute; as silent, again, as a Royal Navy submarine under the polar icecap.
Down periscope, dive, dive, dive. That’s how it was for the first 100 days. For all the talk, little is likely to change.
