In a move that has constitutional scholars reaching for the gin and royalists clutching their pearls, the United States has announced that select passports issued for the nation’s 250th birthday will feature the unmistakable visage of one Donald J. Trump. Yes, the same man who once suggested injecting bleach and whose hair could double as a nesting site for endangered birds is now to be the gatekeeper of American identity. Meanwhile, across the pond, British passports continue to sport the serene profile of a monarch who at least has the decency to remain inanimate on stamps. The irony is so thick you could spread it on a crumpet.
The decision, reportedly spearheaded by a committee of Trump loyalists and a portrait artist who may or may not have been on absinthe, aims to ‘celebrate a transformative era in American history.’ One assumes they mean the transformation from a functioning democracy to a reality TV show where the catchphrase is ‘You’re indicted!’ The passport will feature Trump’s trademark scowl, a look that suggests he’s just been told his Diet Coke is flat. Critics have already dubbed it ‘The Orange Travel Document’ and fear it may cause customs officials worldwide to spontaneously break into impromptu renditions of ‘Y.M.C.A.’
But let us not forget the British passport, steadfast in its regal dignity. While we Brits queue politely with our burgundy booklets bearing the Queen’s serene countenance, Americans will be waving a document that looks like it was designed by a toddler with a crayon and a grudge. The contrast is stark: one represents centuries of tradition and the quiet confidence of a nation that knows its place; the other is a golden-tinted monument to narcissism, complete with a built-in red flush for when the bearer gets angry on Twitter.
Naturally, the announcement has triggered a cascade of reactions. Trump himself called it ‘the greatest honour since the McRib made its triumphant return,’ while his supporters see it as a final, glorious ‘suck it’ to the libs. Civil liberties groups, however, are less amused. ‘This sets a dangerous precedent,’ said Dr. Hilda Pamplemousse of the Institute for Sensible Governance. ‘Next thing you know, they’ll be putting his face on the moon, or worse, on the side of a barn in Ohio.’
Meanwhile, the British government has remained characteristically tight-lipped, though a source at the Foreign Office was overheard muttering, ‘At least our monarch doesn’t try to date her own daughter.’ The Queen’s profile, they remind us, is a symbol of stability and grace, not a meme generator. And while Trump’s face may soon be stamped into the pages of American passports, one can only hope it’s not printed in edible ink, lest hungry travellers take a nibble.
In the end, this is a story about identity. What does it say about a country that chooses a disgraced former president, a man accused of 91 felonies, as the face of its national travel document? Perhaps it says that America has fully embraced the absurd. Or perhaps it’s just a very elaborate practical joke. Either way, as I raise my gin and tonic to the Union Jack, I can’t help but feel a smug sense of relief that my passport still bears the face of a woman who had the good sense to never appear on ‘Celebrity Apprentice.’
