Burnham is about to make a choice that will apparently reshape the entire British economy, which is funny because the choice is between people who all went to the same schools and read the same three economics books. Whoever he picks as chancellor will send a “signal of his intent,” which in political language means: watch this person’s face while they pretend interest rates are a choice and not a math problem.
Here’s what actually matters. The chancellor controls whether your mortgage gets cheaper, whether your pension is worth anything next year, and whether the government pretends to balance a budget or just borrows more money and hopes nobody notices. It is, genuinely, one of the most powerful jobs in the country. And it is being decided by one person in a room, based on vibes and loyalty and probably what someone said at a dinner party in 2019.
The absurdity is not that Burnham has to choose. It is that everyone will act shocked by the choice, as though the person appointed will suddenly reveal hidden economic genius instead of doing exactly what their predecessor did with slightly different rhetorical flourishes. The “signal” everyone is obsessing over will be interpreted as either “bold new direction” or “continuity with purpose” depending entirely on which newspaper you read at breakfast.
The real game is simpler than Monopoly. Roll the dice, move your piece, and hope the next player does not land on your property. Except in this version, the property is the entire tax system and you cannot actually opt out.