Britain is about to be ruled by a 1970s tribute act.

Nostalgia for that troubled, turbulent decade will shortly be a central theme of our country’s governance, judging by Andy Burnham’s eccentric performance when he formally became the Labour leader on Friday.

Towards the end of his victory speech at the London headquarters of the trade union movement, as he swayed on stage to the rhythm of the music, it seemed like he was about to belt out a few of those old socialist favourites: Ain’t No Taxes High Enough, Strike Fever and I Heard It On The Picket Line.

The speech itself was a mix of mushy sentimentality and titanic egotism. Burnham is often praised for his affability, but he is certainly not lacking in self-regard.

He hailed his ascent to Labour’s summit ‘the most important event of the last 40 years in British politics’, while he also promised, in almost messianic terms, to be a leader ‘for the North and South, for the East and West’.

Indeed, he boasted that his inclusive approach will be ‘for all of us’, built on his capacity to ‘draw his strength from the people’.

Throughout modern history, Left-wing leaders who start to invoke their special link to ‘the people’ are really advocating more officialdom, state interference and confiscatory taxation.

Those are the policies that characterised the ‘70s, a time when Britain was known as ‘The Sick Man of Europe’ because of its sclerotic economy, addiction to industrial action, low productivity and unsustainable debts.

In August 1975, under Prime Minister Harold Wilson – incidentally the last born-and-bred northerner to hold the top job before the advent of Burnham – inflation reached an incredible 27 per cent.

Unable to meet its obligations, the following year Labour had to seek a bail-out from the International Monetary Fund.

Labour’s then bruiser of a Chancellor Denis Healey once reportedly said that he wanted to ‘squeeze the rich until the pips squeak’.

And that he did. Taxation was a form of punishment beating for the affluent, with the top rate of 83 per cent levied on salaries over £24,000, the equivalent of £120,000 today. Even more brutal was the 98 per cent levy imposed on investment incomes.

Yet Burnham seems to regard the ‘70s as a sort of political golden age before it all went wrong in the 1980s when Mrs Thatcher began her experiment in neo-liberal economics, destroying industries and communities, especially in the North.

According to Burnham, subsequent governments, including several Labour ones in which he served as a minister, failed to challenge this orthodoxy or reverse the stance.

At a local government conference in May, Burnham set out his case: ‘My core argument is this; if you look back over the last 40 years, Britain has been on the wrong path.’

De-industrialisation, privatisation, deregulation and austerity, he said, add up to four decades that ‘have not been kind to the North of England’.

This kind of shallow, emotive socialism, where kindness is judged by levels of public spending, goes down a treat with Labour’s MPs and activists.

This helps to explain why Burnham is so popular in the party’s rank and file, for he is giving them licence to wallow in their comfort zone, divorced from economic and fiscal realities.

But his outlook is hopelessly flawed and profoundly irresponsible. Buttressed by his sedulously cultivated image as everyone’s ‘mate’, he peddles the delusion that a return to traditional socialism, backed by the expansion of local bureaucracy and tax increases on the wealthy, will wash away Britain’s ills.

This is a dangerous fallacy. Burnham’s supposed solution is a surefire recipe for further decline.

For a start, a wealth tax, which he’s long been in favour of, will leach the country of the very titans of business who put wage packets into workers’ pockets.

Wealth taxes have been binned wherever they’ve been tried, as their architects soon realise that they blunt wealth creation, on which economic growth depends.

The fundamental problem in corporate Britain is not that the state is too small but it is far too big, with the tax burden at its highest level since the 1940s.

The bills for welfare, the NHS, pensions, education and the civil service are all out of control, just at a moment when international threats and tension mean that a substantial increase in defence expenditure is required.

To avoid national bankruptcy while reinforcing national protection would require tremendous political skill and an economic grip of the kind that Burnham does not seem to possess.

In fact, when he was Chief Secretary to the Treasury, he confessed to a journalistic friend that he ‘did not know much about economics’.

Moreover, his craving to be universally liked inhibits him from making tough decisions or setting out clearly defined, costed policies. It is remarkable how he has avoided any real scrutiny in recent months.

He keeps saying he has ‘a plan’ for office, but he has provided no details, just as he has kept secret the make-up of his Cabinet, thereby fuelling an impression of dither and indecision.

‘To govern is to choose,’ said Pierre Mendes-France, the French prime minister of the 1950s. Instead of making hard choices, Burnham hides behind warm words and the search for consensus.

His most high-profile policy is the decentralisation of power to local assemblies, mayors and public bodies, but its supposed radicalism and benefits have been grossly oversold.

Harold Wilson’s unwanted Regional Economic Planning Councils in the mid-1960s didn’t last, going the same way as Tony Blair’s unlamented Regional Development Agencies 20 years later.

Their very existence has often been just code for more bureaucracy because these bodies are the product of political engineering rather than any democratic demand for real change from local people.

Burnham’s ideological faith in state control is just as ill-judged. British Steel was taken into full public ownership last week, many hope the same fate will befall Thames Water, and by 2032 the entire rail network will be nationalised.

Examples of failing privatisation they may be, but be under no illusion – nationalisation will drain the Treasury by engendering strikes, pay-offs and staggering inefficiencies.

On the eve of his final departure as Prime Minister in 1955, Winston Churchill was in a pensive mood as he contemplated his successor Sir Anthony Eden.

The wartime prime minister turned to his secretary and said: ‘I don’t think Anthony’s up to it.’

Churchill was right. Eden turned out to be a disaster.

And Burnham’s strange, unexamined journey to the premiership has done nothing to allay doubts about his calibre.