What does an Andy Burnham premiership mean for British expats living in Portugal?


It’s a bit like Coronation Street. You insist you’ve stopped watching years ago, but somehow still know who’s arguing with whom. And now that Andy Burnham will almost certainly find himself standing outside Number 10, waving awkwardly at photographers while wondering where the kettle is, plenty of British expats in Portugal will immediately ask this key question. “What does all this mean for us?”

Guess what? The truthful answer is probably less than you’d imagine.

British governments have an extraordinary talent for making dramatic announcements that eventually result in someone in Whitehall producing a 400-page consultation document which concludes that another consultation is required. Those shysters know how to make more work for themselves. It’s pretty lucrative.

Nevertheless, it’s fun to speculate. Burnham has long positioned himself as a champion of public services, devolution and ordinary working people. He’s hardly the political equivalent of a Formula One driver. More like a dependable Volvo driver who’s inherently practical, quite reassuring and unlikely to frighten the horses. This might actually appeal to many expats.

After the rollercoaster years of Brexit and Prime Ministers arriving and departing with the lifespan of supermarket lettuce, many Brits in Portugal will probably welcome something that vaguely resembles stability. That’s because stability is somewhat underrated. You don’t appreciate it until you’ve spent three hours trying to renew a passport online while your internet connection keeps disappearing because the neighbour’s cat has fallen asleep on the router.

Discussing healthcare

Healthcare will almost certainly be one of the first issues discussed over coffee in Tavira, Lagos or Albufeira. Most retirees rely on arrangements between Britain and Portugal, which allow them access to healthcare wherever they happen to be. Burnham has generally supported strengthening public healthcare rather than dismantling it, so many pensioners might quietly breathe a little easier. Not because everything would suddenly become wonderful, but because uncertainty is so exhausting.

Then there’s the small matter of pensions. British expats possess a unique ability to calculate exchange rates to precise decimal places, whilst simultaneously insisting that they’re “not really interested in money.” In many expat villas, every movement of sterling against the euro produces scenes normally associated with NASA mission control. “If it gets to €1.23, Doris, we can afford that sea-view apartment.” So you see, if Andy Burnham’s economic policies convinced financial markets that Britain was actually becoming calmer and more predictable, the pound might actually benefit. It might even rally.

Equally, markets could react quite differently. Currency movements depend on a wide range of economic factors, not simply who occupies Number Ten, Downing Street. Which means the daily ritual of checking the exchange rate before ordering another bottle of Vinho Verde is unlikely to disappear.

Emptying a Portuguese café

Taxation? Ah yes. The subject that’s capable of emptying a Portuguese café faster than someone shouting “there’s a hen party arriving.” Expats inevitably worry that a new government might start eyeing overseas pensioners like pirates spotting treasure. Realistically, sweeping changes aimed specifically at British residents in Portugal would be politically complicated and low on any government’s priority list. There are rather more pressing matters than whether Dave from Doncaster pays enough UK taxes as he parsimoniously squirrels away all his unspent Euros at Casa dos Whippets in Quarteira.

The relationship with Europe is where things become genuinely interesting. Burnham has often spoken about rebuilding closer relationships with European neighbours without necessarily reopening old Brexit battles. For British residents in Portugal, that could mean smoother cooperation on practical matters such as professional qualifications, travel arrangements, administrative cooperation and everyday bureaucracy.

In a nutshell, anything that reduces paperwork deserves immediate nomination for the Nobel Peace Prize. Portuguese bureaucracy isn’t terrible any more than British bureaucracy isn’t all that terrible either. But combine the two and suddenly you’re collecting certificates that you’ve never even heard of, each requiring three photocopies, two signatures and someone called Fernando to stamp them with enormous enthusiasm.

Psychological changes

Perhaps the biggest change will actually be psychological. Politics influences confidence. People considering retiring abroad want reassurance that Britain isn’t constantly reinventing itself every eighteen months. The image of Britain matters. Portugal has always been remarkably welcoming to British residents, helped enormously by centuries of friendship between the two nations. A calmer political climate back in the UK can only strengthen that relationship. And that’s obviously a good thing.

Of course, none of this would alter the realities of expat life. You’ll still discover that Portuguese builders operate according to a mysterious calendar known only to themselves.

You’ll still be convinced that every roundabout has acquired at least one extra exit overnight. And, you’ll still insist that nowhere grills fresh fish quite like they do right here in Portugal, whilst secretly craving a decent Cumberland sausage with that occasional sly full-English you have from time to time. Go on, we know you have them. You can’t kid a kidder!

Basically, despite all the Westminster wranglings, life over here goes on, as it does in Blighty. Which is perhaps the greatest lesson politics can teach us. Yes, governments come and governments go.

Yes, new Prime Ministers appear, make their highly choreographed speeches, unveil those catchy (albeit tedious) slogans before eventually disappearing off into the mist and into lucrative after-dinner speaking circuits.

The sun is still rising

Meanwhile, the sun continues to rise over the Algarve, the cafés still serve superb coffee for just a few cents, the Atlantic remains magnificently blue and somewhere a British expat is explaining to bewildered Portuguese neighbours why anyone would voluntarily watch cricket for five whole days.

Andy Burnham’s impending coronation has undoubtedly created headlines predicting dramatic change.

These “seismic” political events always seem to, don’t they? Yet, the reality for most Britons living in Portugal will probably be reassuringly ordinary. We’ll still discuss exchange rates and moan about bureaucracy whilst we continue to curiously observe British politics from a respectful distance. But we’ll be doing so as we sip our Vinho Verde in thirty-degree sunshine. And then, we’ll glance back towards the Atlantic, shrug our shoulders and happily conclude that whatever happens in Westminster, coming here to Portugal was a rather good decision after all. Which, when you think about it, is a wonderfully British way of looking at the world. Sceptical, but quietly optimistic. It’s always better to discuss politics somewhere which routinely serves excellent seafood and brings the most excellent wine to the table at a price that doesn’t break the jolly old bank.


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