In a development that has sent shockwaves through the chancelleries of the West, the delicate bromance between Italian Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni and the former American orange-whorl has curdled faster than a pint of unrefrigerated milk. Sources whisper that the rupture began when Trump, in a fit of pique, demanded that Meloni rename the Colosseum after his second wife. When she demurred, he allegedly called her a 'nasty woman' and threatened to tariff her pasta.
Into this breach steps a delegation of British diplomats, their spines stiffened by tea and a sense of historical duty, to patch up the alliance with all the subtlety of a plaster applied by a blindfolded toddler. The Foreign Office, in a statement remarkable for its opacity, declared that 'Her Majesty's Government stands ready to facilitate dialogue in the interests of transatlantic stability.' Translation: someone forgot to send the memo about Brexit, and now we have to pretend we still matter.
The mission, codenamed 'Operation Brexit Band-Aid,' will involve copious amounts of gin, a lot of hand-wringing, and the strategic deployment of a minor royal. Brace yourselves, chaps. It's going to be a bumpy ride.
