In a feat of bureaucratic bravery that would make a filing cabinet blush, the United Kingdom has dispatched a delegation to Budapest for the city's first Pride march since Viktor Orban's departure. The message is clear: democracy is back on the menu, and the British are here to ensure the paprika-heavy portion sizes remain generous.
The parade snaked through the boulevards like a glittering, slightly confused python, with participants waving rainbow flags that seemed to shout, 'We're here, we're queer, and we've got a housing crisis too!' Meanwhile, Foreign Office types nodded gravely from the sidelines, their stiff upper lips wobbling with emotion and possibly a touch of the local palinka.
Orban's exit left a power vacuum the size of a Tory leadership contest, and into this breach stepped the UK, ever the champion of liberal values. 'We stand with the LGBTQ+ community of Hungary,' declared a spokesman, adjusting his tie and avoiding eye contact with the homeless veteran on the corner. 'Their fight for equality is our fight, especially when it makes for excellent photo opportunities.'
The irony was not lost on the crowd: a nation that once exported Brexit to the continent now exporting rainbow flags to a country that had spent a decade perfecting the art of the 'illiberal democracy.' The music thumped. The glitter sparkled. And somewhere, in a dimly lit pub, a British journalist raised a glass of suspiciously affordable gin to the absurdity of it all.
'This is what global leadership looks like,' said one diplomat, adjusting his pocket square. 'We're showing the world that British values matter, even if our railways don't.' The crowd cheered, partly in agreement, partly because the free rum cocktails had arrived.
As the last of the rainbow floats trundled down Andrassy Avenue, a sense of cautious optimism hung in the air. Orban was gone. Pride was back. And the British had managed to attend a foreign event without colonising anything. A small step for man, a giant leap for self-justifying middle powers.
Back in London, the Prime Minister watched the coverage on a muted telly, nodding approvingly. 'Splendid,' he muttered. 'Now, about those P&O Ferries...' But that's a column for another, more cynical day.
