So, to answer the question: Andy Burnham has three children. Not two, not four, but the perfect number for a minibus taxi. It’s the number that makes you a master of negotiation and a ninja at hiding the good biscuits. It’s the number that makes you accidentally call your children by the dog’s name.
Next time you see him on the news, don’t just see the Mayor. See a bloke who has to remind his kids to take the bins out. See a man who probably has a half-eaten bag of cheese puffs in his glove compartment. He knows what it’s like to argue about the Wi-Fi password. And that, more than any policy, makes him perfectly normal.
So, one for the left hand, one for the right, and one to keep him running around in circles. That’s the Burnham brood. And honestly, it’s the most human thing about him.
