“Down South, they had the Cavaliers. They’re the ones with the velvet knickerbockers. Up North, we were governed….we were governed by King Dick of Wigan. Buckingham Palace in those days was on Plank Lane in Leigh.”
This was a passage from the late, great Ken Dodd. It was one of his hilarious monologues given on ‘An Audience with Ken Dodd’ back in 1994. In front of a star-studded audience at London Weekend Television, Ken gave us his own history lesson on northern England in an act rooted in a quick repartee loaded with Lancashire stereotypes. Listening to this over 30 years ago, one couldn’t help laughing uproariously at the sheer comic ridiculousness of it all. In 2026, with the sudden political rise of Andy Burnham, I am beginning to wonder whether it should be seen as more prophetic – in both location and style.
In the 40 or so years I’ve been actively interested in British politics, I don’t think I’ve ever been more despairing at the state and future of this country than I am today. When Andy Burnham inevtiably deposes the woeful Keir Starmer in a few weeks time, it won’t be the dawn of a new era as those in the sycophantic media promise us. It’ll be a continuation of the failed ideas and ideologies that have pushed this country to the brink of social and economic breakdown. All Burnham represents is a reincarnation of Keir Starmer, but with a more folksy ‘chips and gravy’ persona. The same priorities and instincts will be there, but they’ll just be disguised in a more down-to-earth delivery. Burnham will do nothing about our criminal levels of both legal and illegal immigration; do nothing about the unsustainable welfare expenditure in the UK; do nothing about lessening the impact of a taxation system that is literally punishing enterprise and increasing unemployment; do nothing about the ruinous Net Zero agenda making our domestic energy bills higher with each passing year. A toxic combination of ideological zealotry and deference to internationalism have infected every government to varying degrees since the advent of Tony Blair. Don’t expect this to wither on the vine under the leadership of the ‘Scouse Messiah’.
Despite what many journalists tell you, Burnham’s front row seat as Mayor of Greater Manchester has been far from impressive. When elected to that position in 2017, he promised to end rough sleeping within 3 years. You’ve only got to take a look around the centre of Manchester today to see he missed that target by a mile. He also attempted to copy London’s ULEZ zone, spending £104 million in studies and preparation, before scrapping the plan when he realised it would be about as popular as a day trip to Spinalonga Island in the 1930s. Greater Manchester Police, which Burnham oversaw as Police and Crime Commissioner, had to be placed in special measures in 2020 after failing to investigate no less than 80,000 crimes. It is only thanks to the stewardship of replacement Chief Constable, Stephen Watson, that the force – now the second-largest in England – has managed to turn itself around. A Mayor who came to power promising more affordable homes across the conurbation, has instead presided over an explosion in high-rise city centre living projects for those at the richer ends of the housing market. It has left Manchester with one of the ugliest skylines in Europe. Forget any of these skycrapers having the contemporary aesthetic appeal of the Gran Torre Costanera in Santiago, the Messeturm in Frankfurt, or the Shard in London. These are clusters of bland, soulless towers with no redeeming features whatsoever – a vista of monochrome Cuisenaire rods pointing defiantly at the clouds.
No examination of Burnham’s record would be complete without mentioning, of course, the Muslim grooming gangs. Those unpicked scabs from the wounds inflicted by multiculturalism were rampant in places like Rochdale, Oldham, Bolton and Tameside – all part of Burnham’s fiefdom. The Mayor played his part in resisting a comprehensive national inquiry for years. He initiated local and very limited reviews which garnered far more heat than light. Survivors were ignored and witnesses were blocked from testifying about the horrors they saw. It was only when the pressures for a national investigation became too much to withstand that Burnham jumped on the bandwagon. Those vicissitudes with the power to damage his political reputation/career were beginning to hove into view, and we can’t have that…..can we?
So here we are. Just weeks from the appointment of a Prime Minister parachuted into Parliament via a by-election because Labour could not find a suitable replacement among the more than 400 MPs elected in 2024! A Left-wing class, who thundered about a Brexit referendum they lost because “it was secured with only 37% of the total British electorate”, have precisely bugger all to say about a man who will enter 10 Downing Street with only the backing of 0.03% of that same electorate. Or will he? Because Burnham has suggested he might try to run the country from his home in Wigan (‘King Dick’, indeed), and create a new Downing Street-style hub in Manchester (so that’s more bureaucracy spoonfed to us by the lanyard classes) to “rebalance the UK”. I mean, when you look at the history of devolution in Scotland and Wales, what could possibly go wrong? LOL!
I couldn’t end this essay without a word to the 25,000 people in Makerfield, who are responsible for putting the entire Kingdom in this parlous position. When an overwhelmingly white British working class constituency can elect a creature like Burnham, simply because their adherence to socialist solidarity trumps everything else, you realise there really ARE people out there who are simply beyong help. I doubt even a spell under psychiatric specialists at Rampton could be enough of a treatment for that level of delusional sickness! But here’s the thing: How about those who continue to give their blessing to figures who perpetuate open borders having to live with the consequences of their vote? For 25,000 folk in Makerfield, diversity is a strength as long as it can be contained in someone else’s back yard. So what about when it can’t? Over to you, King Dick!
