Budapest, a city renowned for its thermal baths and baffling political thermodynamics, has erupted into a fresh bout of the absurd. In what can only be described as a political hall of mirrors, the Hungarian Prime Minister, a man whose name is practically a synonym for 'illiberal democracy', is now reportedly threatening to oust the very president he installed. Yes, you read that correctly. Viktor Orbán, the grand puppeteer of central Europe, may be about to sever the strings on his own creation, President Katalin Novak, a loyalist who has somehow fallen from grace faster than a pint of cheap lager at a stag do.
The news, delivered with the solemnity of a papal bull but the substance of a tabloid horoscope, suggests that Orbán's Fidesz party is mulling a motion to dismiss Novak. The reason? A murky scandal involving a pardon granted to a convicted child abuser, a decision that has apparently crossed some invisible line in a country where the rule of law is often treated as a suggestion rather than a commandment. Novak, who was supposed to be the steadfast figurehead of Orbán's vision, has suddenly become a liability, a loose cannon on the deck of the good ship Autocracy. And so, the man who has spent years gutting checks and balances is now poised to use those very mechanisms to cannibalise his own ally.
Meanwhile, from across the Channel, comes the sound of Britain clearing its throat with the genteel impatience of a retired colonel in a tea shop. The Foreign Office has issued a statement, warning against 'democratic backsliding' in Hungary, a phrase so polite it might as well be embroidered on a cushion. One can almost picture the stern-faced diplomat, sipping Earl Grey, tutting at the latest antics from Budapest. 'We urge our Hungarian friends to respect the democratic principles they once espoused,' the statement goes, presumably before adding, 'And do stop behaving like a rogue state with a grudge against liberalism.'
But let us not pretend that Britain, a country that has spent the last seven years performing a breathtakingly inept pas de deux with its own constitution, is in any position to lecture. Still, the irony is delicious: the nation that gave us Brexit, partygate, and a succession of prime ministers who seemed to be competing for the title of 'Most Ephemeral Head of Government', now raising its eyebrows at Hungarian shenanigans. It is like watching a drunkard at closing time scold another patron for wobbling.
The truth is that Orbán's Hungary has long been a laboratory for the kind of political theatre that makes observers queasy. This latest development, a threatened purge of his own appointee, is merely the next act in a play that has run far too long. The script, written in Budapest, involves the systematic dismantling of democratic norms, the hollowing out of institutions, and the occasional ritual sacrifice of a once-loyal ally. And the audience? It is a mixture of bemused Europeans, horrified human rights groups, and a British government that can only muster a limp-wristed warning.
So here we are, watching a dictator-lite eating his own, while a former empire that can't even manage its own borders clucks disapprovingly. It is a farce of epic proportions, a satire so rich it writes itself. I suspect the gin has run low, but the absurdity is in full supply.
