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3 hours ago
1
What just happened? It was quiet. Much too quiet. Outside his bedroom window, he could have sworn he heard birdsong. Keir Starmer opened one eye. Cautiously. With an air of trepidation. Then, almost reluctantly, he opened the other. He leaned over to his bedside table and reached for his phone to see what fresh hell awaited him. What disasters the orange manchild in the White House had inflicted on the rest of the world while he had been asleep. It had reached the point where he had come to confuse the daily reality check with his darkest nightmares.
Nothing. Well, almost nothing. Just one late-night post on Donald Trump’s social media feed warning the people of Gaza that they would all die if they didn’t release the Israeli hostages. Keir exhaled. That was someone else’s problem. The Middle East was well above his pay grade. Others could take the lead in brokering a peace there. All that was required of him was to say a few tough words condemning Hamas and calling for a two-state solution from time to time.
Nothing also from JD Vance since he had declared that the UK and French armed forces were basically a waste of space. Sure, the vice-president had gone on to say he definitely hadn’t aimed his remarks at the French and the British, even though we all knew that was exactly what he had meant. That had left everyone playing diplomatic cover-up because no one could afford to openly embarrass the Americans. The new world order meant sucking up to the bullyboys. There was no way around that. The alternative was a possible escalation in the war with Ukraine. It just didn’t help when the two most powerful men in the US were dim and dangerous.
For the last few weeks or so, Starmer felt he had been playing catch-up. Waking up each day to find himself firefighting the latest White House efforts to encourage the Russians to escalate the war in Europe. And every time he had felt he just might be getting ahead of the curve, The Donald and his obsequious sidekick had gone out of their way to make things worse. Hold their beer.
But today was a pleasant respite. Almost a return to the normal workings of prime ministerial life. Not exactly a return to the quotidian but as close as it was likely to get in the foreseeable future. He just needed to work out how to square his promise to the Americans not to share military intelligence with Ukraine with his commitment to Volodymyr Zelenskyy to continue to do so. Perhaps it didn’t count if he did it with his eyes shut. Or if he told someone else who would then tell the Ukrainian president.
To his surprise, Keir found he didn’t quite know how to do normal any more. So much of his time had been spent on global diplomacy, AKA wrangling the incontinent toddler in the White House and leading the European response, that he had rather forgotten how to do the day job. Inflation, fiscal rules and the state of the NHS suddenly didn’t seem quite as important as they had a month ago.
Still, it was good to know he wasn’t the only one out of kilter. Kemi Badenoch didn’t appear to know whether she was coming or going and Nigel Farage had been forced to take Trappist vows after his repeated support for Putin. Now at least one of his MPs was in open revolt, insisting Nige had a messiah complex. Maybe some good was coming out of the war.
Nothing to do but to crack on. Fake it to make it. First stop was a quick meeting with the Irish taoiseach, Micheál Martin. This could be done with his eyes closed. Dealing with another leader whom he could trust to do what he said was a comparative luxury. One he had come to take for granted in the past. The two men had understood one another perfectly. For their two countries to work as closely as humanly possible while maintaining the illusion that the constraints of the post-Brexit arrangements were no real bother. How to have a single market and freedom of movement without a single market and freedom of movement. Job done.
Hours later, Keir was dressed like a toddler in an oversized hi-vis jacket as he visited the Cammell Laird shipyard in Birkenhead. Here he first took questions from a small group of workers who had been rounded up for his benefit. It was all a bit toe-curling. Close your eyes and it could all have been a bit Alan Partridge. Starmer has spent so much time globe-trotting and schmoozing world leaders in recent weeks that he’s got rather out of practice at dealing with the little people.
“I’m here to serve you,” Keir said. “It’s not a privilege for you to be here.” Hmm. It sounded as if he did protest a little too much. Being a major player on the world stage gets to every prime minister in the end. “So ask me any question you like. Just not about football. I support Arsenal. Some of you may support Liverpool.” That last sentence either was meant to be a joke or it was an idiot’s guide to fandom. To ease the tension. No one laughed.
The first two questions were about women and apprentices. Starmer was all for both of them. In his mind, the UK is now on a war footing. The passenger ferry that was docked behind him was within days of being converted to an aircraft carrier. More women and apprentices would be needed to create the largest navy the world had ever seen. The gathered audience didn’t seem totally convinced.
One worker then asked about Ukraine. As did the reporters from the BBC and Sky. President Trump was committed to peace in Ukraine, Keir said. Mmm. Possibly. Though so far his main interest appears to be a peace that suits Russia.
Moving on. The US was a reliable partner. As in reliably unreliable. Short-tempered, easily rattled and pathologically narcissistic. Not to mention half-witted. Few men in history have done more to destabilise the west in such a short time. If a deal is reached, it will have been despite The Donald, not because of him. Though he will undoubtedly expect the Nobel peace prize for his efforts. The rest of us will just have to grin and bear it.
Keir burbled on for a few more minutes in statesmanlike terms. It must be a peace that lasts. He was in a prime position to negotiate. He didn’t want to choose between the US and Europe. Churchill and Atlee hadn’t and neither would he. But Winston and Clem hadn’t had to deal with a president like Trump. Everything was for the best in the best of all possible worlds. Until the next eruption from the White House.
