As he reaches the six-week mark in No 10, I have finally reached my limit with Andy Burnham's TikTok premiership. There is only so much cringey viral content we can be expected to take and the nation has surely had its fill by now.So far we've had the Prime Minister enthusing to Angela Rayner about babby's yeds (steak and kidney suet puddings), strumming out The Smiths' Rusholme Ruffians on an electric guitar, helping Greggs promote its Sausage, Bean and Cheese Thing, and back to The Smiths with a montage of the Labour leader smiling and waving, scored to the Manchester indie band's 1984 B-side, How Soon is Now?Past PMs tried to ingratiate themselves with Andrew Marr; Mr Burnham seems more concerned with Johnny Marr.There is a place for viral clips in Downing Street's comms arsenal. Like it or not, eye-catching short-form videos can cut through where even the most expertly crafted speech could not. What is striking about Mr Burnham's social media output is how much of it has nothing whatever to do with the business of running the country.Rather, it is about the business that Mr Burnham has always been in: getting people to like him. He wants the Labour membership to like him, hence why he has never expressed an opinion at odds with his party's ranks of Guardian readers, retired teachers and public-sector lanyardistas. Prime Minister Andy Burnham smiles during a visit to Bath, western England on July 22He wants the Parliamentary Labour Party to like him, as evidenced by the fact he appointed some of its least capable characters to government jobs.And he wants the public to like him. He longs for nothing more than for the average voter to think of him as their cheeky-chappie Manc mate who loves his footy, his New Order and his chips n' gravy.None of his TikToks has been more revealing of this than his attempt to manufacture his own Mr Pigden moment. Sydney Pigden was a south London primary school PE teacher whom footballer Ian Wright credited for disciplining, encouraging and inspiring him. The 2010 clip is of their surprise reunion, in which a stunned and overcome Wright exclaims 'Mr Pigden!', then deferentially removes his hat and hugs his old teacher. It has become an internet staple for its relatable story of how the instruction of a great teacher can be life-changing for even the rowdiest pupil.Cue Mr Burnham's pastiche. Earlier this month, a TikTok video showed the PM walking into a meeting room in No 10 only to be greeted by his old university professor. 'I got the shock of my life when I walked through that door,' Mr Burnham gasps at the conclusion of the achingly scripted conversation. Whereas the Ian Wright clip is endearing in its spontaneity and honesty, the PM's knock-off was just another trying-too-hard effort from a man who cannot bear to be disliked.Unfortunately for Mr Burnham, the issue is not just one of comms. His premiership thus far has been defined by the TikTok mindset. Policies are chosen for their shareability rather than their effectiveness in addressing the problem in question. Considerthe bold announcement that rough-sleeping will be ended in time for Christmas. It's a pledge just made to be reposted to Facebook or Instagram with a love heart emoji.Who could be against getting folk off the street and around the Christmas lunch table? Johnny Marr pictured wearing shades and playing his guitar at Castlefield Bowl in Manchester on July 9Alas, feel-good promises do not sound policy make, and the Government is not going to overcome endemic social pathologies in the space of a few months.The pledge will be broken and voters hoping that Mr Burnham represents a genuine break from politics-as-usual will be bitterly disappointed.Then there was the national alert debacle, in which the Government drove half the country to the brink of a coronary with a sudden, unannounced siren ululating from their phones. Was Covid back? Had Iran invaded? No, it was hot and Whitehall wanted to warn against firing up disposable barbecues.Where Mr Burnham takes decisions they tend to be ill-advised, such as his much-trailed plan to wade into the Middle East conflict with fresh sanctions on Israeli settlements, but that in itself does not vindicate his otherwise crippling indecisiveness.From entering the assisted suicide debate only to announce that he wouldn't be taking a side, to kicking welfare reform into the long grass, Mr Burnham spent years plotting to get his hands on power but now doesn't want to do anything with it.At least not anything transformative or of national import. He is keen on what he calls 'everyday fixes', including crackdowns on overly complicated processes to cancel subscriptions, misleading discounts and cowboy builders.And while none of these is a bad idea, they are pitifully small compared to the scale of the challenges Britain faces. Mr Burnham seems to want to be the Prime Minister of the little things when the problems are so much bigger. The first six weeks of his premiership have coincided with Britain's balmy late summer – mellow days of open collars, weekend barbecues and beer gardens after work. He has been able to insinuate himself into No 10 and into the nation's consciousness, much as autumn is finally beginning to ease its way into our surroundings. For Mr Burnham, however, the change in the political seasons will be more abrupt. This week, his summer honeymoon will be swept aside by the chill winds of a dangerous world.Parliament is returning from recess ahead of a visit by French president Emmanuel Macron, the first head of an EU member state to make the trip to London since Mr Burnham took office. The war in Ukraine is escalating and Vladimir Putin is threatening to retaliate against Britain for supplying Kyiv with missiles and drone technology used in strikes that have killed Russian civilians.Yet at this very moment, Chancellor John Healey is reportedly planning to deliver October's Budget, his first in the role, without giving a deadline for raising defence spending to 3 per cent of GDP. He resigned from the Government over this very issue just two months ago.These are serious times and Mr Burnham will have to pivot accordingly. Yes, it feels a little soon in his premiership, but he already needs a reset and Burnham 1.0, the TikToker-in-Chief, must be consigned to the heatwave-addled summer. The TikTok videos, the guitar-strumming, the casual attire — all were fine during silly season, but testing days lie ahead.If Burnham 2.0, Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, is to withstand the challenges in front of him, he will have to readjust his image and his leadership to a colder, more bracing climate.