In a development that has sent shivers down the spines of diplomatic correspondents and publicans alike, the former president of the United States, one Donald J. Trump, has demanded billions for a war fund aimed at the Islamic Republic of Iran. Yes, the man who brought us 'covfefe' and a lifelong subscription to tanning beds now wishes to add 'war architect' to his CV, presumably sandwiched between 'reality TV star' and 'defendant in multiple civil suits'.
UK defence analysts, those poor souls who spend their days staring at satellite images of missile silos and their nights staring at the bottom of a glass, have warned of a potential escalation. But let us be honest, analysts have been warning of escalations since the invention of the escalator. The real question is: who will fund this little jamboree? Trump, ever the philanthropist, has suggested that perhaps the UK might chip in. After all, we still owe him for that time he said 'special relationship' and meant it.
The logic, if one can call it that, goes thus: Iran is bad. Iran has nukes, or will have nukes, or might have nukes in a parallel universe where physics works differently. Therefore, we must spend billions on bombs that will be dropped on people who, frankly, have enough problems with their own government. It's like burning down your neighbour's house because their dog barked. Except the dog is a nuclear programme and your neighbour is a theocracy with a penchant for hostage-taking.
But let us not forget the man at the centre of this maelstrom. Trump, whose hair defies both gravity and common decency, has once again demonstrated his mastery of foreign policy by suggesting that perhaps we could just 'blow the hell out of them' and then 'count the bodies'. This is the same man who, as president, nearly started a war with Iran over a drone strike and then claimed it was to 'prevent a war'. It's like a arsonist who sets a fire and then applies for the job of fire chief.
Meanwhile, in the hallowed halls of Whitehall, defence analysts are doing what they do best: issuing statements that sound important but change nothing. They speak of 'grave concerns' and 'careful monitoring', which is diplomatic code for 'we're terrified but we can't say that'. One can imagine them, huddled around a map of the Middle East, suddenly realising that their pension funds are heavily invested in defence contractors. Funny how that works.
The cost? Oh, a mere bagatelle. A few billion dollars, perhaps more. But money is just numbers on a screen, after all. And in the grand theatre of international relations, what is a few billion between friends? Especially when those friends include the sort of people who think that 'diplomacy' is a brand of luggage.
As the sun sets on this latest episode of 'As the World Burns', one cannot help but feel a pang of nostalgia for the days when the biggest threat to world peace was a misplaced comma in a trade agreement. Now we have a man who thinks a war fund is like a GoFundMe for missiles. And Britannia, poor dear, is expected to waive the rules and write a cheque, all while pretending that the special relationship is still special and not just a abusive partnership with a billionaire who forgot your birthday.
So raise a glass, dear reader, to the defence analysts who will now have to work overtime. And to the gin that makes it all bearable. For in the end, war is just politics by other means, and politics is just show business for ugly people. And nobody does show business quite like a man with a spray tan and a grudge.
