In a move that has sent seasoned British diplomats scrambling for the nearest bottle of sherry (and possibly a fainting couch), the word from Washington is that Donald Trump has demanded last-minute edits to the US-Iran deal. Yes, the same Donald Trump who once tried to solve a trade war with a Sharpie. The same man who thinks 'covfefe' is a diplomatic term.
Sources say the proposed changes involve rewriting clauses on uranium enrichment, a topic that requires the delicate touch of a brain surgeon and not, as Trump appears to believe, the editing acumen of a man who once fired the entire cast of 'The Apprentice' via tweet. The British Foreign Office, hitherto known for its stiff upper lip, is now reported to be doing a passable impression of a goldfish: mouth agape, eyes wide, and emitting small, helpless bubbles of anxiety.
One diplomat, speaking on condition of anonymity (and possibly medication), described the situation as 'a flaming car crash filmed on a potato.' Another, more forthright source, simply said: 'He’s gone rogue. Again. Is it too late to recall Sir Humphrey from retirement?'
The edits themselves are shrouded in mystery, much like the whereabouts of Trump’s tax returns. Rumour has it they include demands for Iran to 'make America great again' by purchasing more Trump-branded ties and/or agreeing to rename the Persian Gulf the 'Trump Pond'. But these are, as yet, unconfirmed.
What is confirmed is that the deal, which took years of painstaking negotiation and more cups of tea than a Baptist church picnic, is now teetering on the brink of collapse. And in the middle of it all stands the British diplomat, that tragic hero of international relations, trapped between a rock and a hard place, or in this case, between a reality TV star and an ayatollah.
One can almost hear the collective sigh from Whitehall, a sound that reverberates through the hallowed corridors like a damp fart in a library. The phrase 'special relationship' is now being quietly replaced with 'special needs relationship' in unofficial memos.
Meanwhile, back in the States, Trump’s base is reportedly thrilled, having been told that the edits will 'own the libs' and 'make the Saudis jealous'. The Iranian delegation, for their part, have responded with a series of polite but inscrutable smiles, the diplomatic equivalent of giving someone the finger behind a frond.
As the sun sets on the Empire (again), one thing is certain: British diplomacy has entered a new era, one where you’re not even sure if your counterpart has read the briefing notes, let alone the room. Biff Thistlethwaite, for one, will be watching from the bar, gin in hand, ready to write the obituary of common sense.
