In a development that has sent diplomatic barometers spinning into the red zone, the 45th President of the United States has reportedly demanded a fresh round of edits to the already much-amended nuclear accord with Iran. Sources close to the situation describe the requested changes as 'substantive, if not entirely coherent,' with one aide comparing the process to 'trying to proofread a novel while riding a unicycle on a motorway.'
Meanwhile, across the pond, His Majesty's Government has been insisting, with the sort of earnestness usually reserved for explaining cricket to foreigners, that 'nuclear safeguards must be robust and verifiable.' This has prompted a collective rolling of eyes from the White House, where the prevailing attitude towards British fussiness seems to be a sort of bemused contempt, like a man discovering his dog has learned to play chess but keeps insisting on renaming the pieces.
The President's demands, delivered via a series of early-morning tweets that read like a ransom note from a rogue teddy bear, are said to include a 'beautiful, perfect signature line' and the removal of any clauses that might imply 'weakness or, frankly, any sort of multilateralism that doesn't start with a capital M and end with an exclamation point.'
Diplomatic observers note a certain poetic tension here. The Americans, who invented the concept of the 'global cop,' are now behaving like a disgruntled tenant who wants to renegotiate the lease on a house he's already set on fire. The British, who once ruled a quarter of the planet but now settle for mediating disputes between a Big Mac and a kebab, are clinging to the idea that international agreements should actually mean something.
'It's like watching a man try to return a pizza that he's already eaten,' commented one former ambassador, who requested anonymity to avoid being drawn into 'this sordid farce.' 'The Iranians are sitting there, smoking their water pipes, watching the grown-ups argue over who gets to hold the nuclear football. It's almost beautiful in its stupidity.'
Now, the question on everyone's lips: will Britain's insistence on safeguards prevail, or will the President's need for aesthetic amendments undo years of painstaking negotiation? The answer, as with most things in this benighted era, is likely to be both no and yes, delivered with a smile and a sharp kick to the shins.
In the end, this is a story about the nature of power. The Americans have the bombs, the Brits have the moral high ground, and the Iranians have the ability to wait until the grown-ups tire themselves out. It's a classic stand-off, like a game of chicken played with nuclear warheads and a great deal of pompous language.
As one White House insider put it: 'The President wants a deal that looks good on camera. The Brits want a deal that works on paper. The only people who want neither are the ones who will have to live with the consequences.' And so the circus continues, with all of us holding our breath, waiting for the inevitable bang.
