In a move that has left seasoned diplomats reaching for the smelling salts and international relations scholars weeping into their sake, Donald Trump has apparently mistaken the intricate web of global statecraft for a cosplay convention. Reports from the Far East suggest the former president, during a recent outreach to Japanese officials, deployed a series of anime characters as part of his 'charm offensive.' Yes, you read that correctly.
The man who once boasted of his 'Art of the Deal' has now apparently mastered the 'Art of the Feels,' deploying Pikachu, Sailor Moon, and a frankly bewildered-looking Totoro to convey America's strategic interests. The Japanese government, known for its stoic politeness, issued a statement that can only be described as a masterpiece of passive-aggressive bewilderment. 'We appreciate the colourful presentation,' they said, through gritted teeth.
Meanwhile, a UK trade mission, currently in Tokyo trying to negotiate a post-Brexit fisheries agreement that makes any sense at all, has issued a frantic warning: 'This is not how you do it. Please stop. For the love of God, stop.
' One can only imagine the scene: a room full of stern-faced officials, a projector flickering with images of Naruto running through the halls of power, and Trump, beaming, convinced he has just sealed a deal that will make Japan great again. It is a level of diplomatic gaffe that makes the 'basket of deplorables' comment look like a masterclass in nuance. The Japanese backlash has been swift and merciless.
Social media, never a friend to the hapless, has erupted with memes depicting Trump as a Team Rocket reject, trying to steal diplomatic secrets with a pokéball. The hashtag #AnimeDiplomacy is trending, and not in a good way. Pundits are calling it the 'Gaijin Blunder of the Century.
' But let us not be too hasty to judge. Perhaps, in some bizarre, alternate dimension, this approach works. Perhaps the key to unlocking the North Korean nuclear issue was always a well-placed reference to 'Dragon Ball Z.
' Perhaps the solution to global warming is simply to ask Captain Planet for help. But here, in the real world, the one where trade deals are written in legalese and not manga, this is a catastrophe. The UK trade mission, already struggling to explain why British farmers are now competing with Japanese whalers for the same dwindling fish stocks, is now having to perform damage control on a whole new level.
'We are considering issuing a formal apology on behalf of the Anglosphere,' a source whispered, their voice trembling. 'We may also need to send a crate of single malt to every Japanese prefecture.' It is a dark day for diplomacy, a bright day for satire.
And somewhere, in a bar in Soho, this correspondent raises a glass of lukewarm gin to the sheer, unadulterated absurdity of it all. Because if we cannot laugh at a former president trying to negotiate a trade deal with a yellow electric rodent, then what, exactly, can we laugh at?
