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For many in towns like Makerfield, politics is not an abstract debate happening on the evening news; it is a deeply personal feeling of being forgotten. This sentiment has crystallized into a firm, shared conclusion: Westminster is broken. As I’ve walked the streets, speaking with thousands of residents on doorsteps and in supermarket aisles, this belief transcends how anyone plans to vote. Whether they’re pledging support, explaining their reluctance, or still wrestling with their decision, a common refrain underpins every conversation: the system no longer serves communities like ours. There is a profound sense that too many decision-makers in London could not locate our towns on a map, let alone understand the realities of life here—the quiet struggles for security, opportunity, and respect that define our daily existence.
This disconnect is precisely why I left Parliament nearly a decade ago to stand as Mayor of Greater Manchester. I witnessed firsthand how crucial decisions affecting millions were made by a distant handful, devoid of the local context that gives those decisions meaning. I believed then, as I do now, that the answers for Wigan, Winstanley, and Worsley Mesnes are not found in the corridors of power in London, but in the voices and lived experiences of the people who call these places home. Returning to this community during the election campaign has only reinforced that conviction. The victories we’ve fought for and won here—from taking back control of our buses to serve people, not profit, to securing a fair deal for the North during the pandemic—are a testament to what focused, local leadership can achieve.
Yet, these victories should not have required such monumental battles. Why must we fight tooth and nail for affordable, reliable public transport—a basic expectation in any functioning society? Why did we have to stand firm to receive the financial support we were morally owed during a national lockdown? The fight for justice for the Hillsborough families, a struggle I was honoured to support, took decades of relentless pressure against institutional resistance. Each of these battles, while worthwhile, points to the same systemic failure. Successive governments have turned a deaf ear to the fundamental pillars of a good life: stable, well-paid jobs; affordable homes; safe streets; and genuine prospects for our young people. The relentless need to fight for the basics is exhausting a public that simply wants a system that works.
This feeling of neglect extends beyond grand political projects and into the very fabric of our community life. Take our local pubs, like the one run by Ian, a landlord I met last week. These independent establishments are far more than just places to drink; they are the living rooms of our neighbourhoods, where connections are forged, and community spirit is nurtured. They, alongside our family-run shops and restaurants, form the heartbeat of our high streets. But they are struggling under the weight of outdated business rates. My plan to cut these burdensome costs for sixty such venues across Makerfield isn’t just an economic policy; it’s a commitment to preserving the spaces that hold us together. Standing up for our high streets is about defending our social infrastructure.
The power of persistent, local action was recently demonstrated in a tangible victory. After a sustained grassroots campaign, the government has finally agreed to fund the clearance of thousands of tons of illegally dumped waste blighting part of our community. With the council now set to begin the clean-up, this success is a powerful reminder that change is possible when people organise and their voices are amplified. It underscores my fundamental belief: that power must be pushed out of Whitehall and handed back to the communities who best understand their own challenges and solutions. Real change is not delivered from the top down; it is built from the ground up.
As the final days of the campaign unfold, the choices facing the nation come into sharp focus. While the country’s attention may also be on the footballing campaigns in the World Cup—and as a lifelong Everton fan, I admit I’m still waiting for Tuchel’s call!—the decision here in Makerfield carries a profound weight of its own. If I am given the privilege to represent this community, my mandate will be clear and my mission singular: to ensure that Westminster finally hears the voices of towns like ours, loud and undeniable. The task is to mend what is broken, to replace neglect with investment, and to rebuild a politics that works not just for the powerful few, but for the many in communities who have waited far too long to be seen and heard.
