In a twist that has sent the FCO’s best china rattling into the Thames, a Trump-endorsed political prizefighter has clutched the Colombian presidency. The man, a chap who looks like he was dreamed up by a committee of Brexiteers and a rogue AI, has promised to ‘drain the swamp’ of the Amazon. Or perhaps the political swamp. It’s hard to tell with the gin level in my bloodstream.
I rang the Foreign Office for comment. A man named Nigel, who sounded like he was already halfway through a bottle of something warm, muttered something about ‘strategic recalibration of cocoa supplies’. Which is diplomatic speak for: we’re about to get very matey with a bloke who thinks climate change is a plot by the EU to sell more umbrellas.
Let’s examine our new best friend. He’s an outsider, which in Colombian politics means he’s never been convicted of anything in the past fortnight. He ran on a platform of ‘Make Colombia Cuddle Again’, a slogan so vague it could mean anything from free salsa lessons to putting tariffs on hats. Trump backed him because, and I quote a leaked memo, ‘he’s got the kind of hair that says don’t mess with my barber.’
Now, the UK foreign office, led by a man who looks perpetually surprised that his trousers have legs, is scrambling to align trade. What does this mean for the British public? It means we might soon be swapping our morning cuppa for a cup of Colombian coca tea. It means our bananas will come with a free straw hat and a promise to ‘fight the narco-socialists’. It means the Queen’s portrait in Bogota will be replaced with a velociraptor holding a union jack.
But let’s not be cynical. Perhaps this is the dawn of a new era of diplomatic synergy. Imagine: Johnson and this new caudillo, arm in arm, skipping through a field of cocaine bushes, singing ‘Rule Britannia’ in Spanish. The possibilities for absurdity are endless. I can already see the state visit: a state banquet of deep-fried arepas and tepid gin, followed by a ceremonial re-enactment of the Battle of Trafalgar using inflatable submarines.
Yet, I must sober up for a moment. This man is a loose cannon, a political Ferrari with no brakes. He has promised to privatise the rain, make poverty history by ignoring it, and rename the Andes ‘Trump’s Granite Uplift’. Our foreign office, in its infinite wisdom, thinks we can do business with this. What could possibly go wrong? Besides the inevitable collapse of the ozone layer and a sudden surge in novelty stetson sales.
I’ll be watching from the nearest gin palace, pen in one hand, tonic in the other, ready to chronicle the chaos. Someone has to, and frankly, my editor is too busy praying for a soft Brexit to notice reality. So here’s to the new Colombia: where the coffee is strong, the politics are stronger, and the Foreign Office is, as ever, hopelessly out of its depth.
