In a move that has left economists reaching for their smelling salts and their thesauruses, the United Kingdom and Japan have announced an £18 billion investment deal. This, we are told, cements Britain’s post-Brexit economic might. Or rather, it cements the ability of both nations to engage in a very expensive round of mutual back-patting.
The deal, signed with the solemnity of a papal bull and the opacity of a cryptic crossword clue, promises jobs, growth, and a future so bright we may need to issue sunglasses to the Treasury. The specifics, however, remain as elusive as a sober thought at the G7.
Let us dissect the bare bones of this financial cadaver. Eighteen billion pounds. That’s roughly the cost of 18 billion packets of Quavers, or one moderately sized round of drinks at the House of Commons bar. Japan, fresh from its own economic adventures, has decided to park some yen in Blighty. In return, we have presumably promised to consume their cars and anime with renewed vigour.
The Prime Minister, a man whose smile could sell sand to the Sahara, appeared on the steps of Downing Street to declare this a historic moment. His tie was impeccably Windsor-knotted. His confidence was as inflated as the national debt. He spoke of a 'golden age' of trade, conveniently forgetting that golden ages tend to precede hangovers.
Meanwhile, the opposition muttered darkly about the deal being a 'fig leaf' covering the gaping wounds left by Brexit. But who listens to them? They only represent half the country. Or two-fifths. It’s hard to keep track in this bold new world of sovereign trade policy.
In Tokyo, the Japanese Prime Minister, a man whose dignity could survive a tsunami, offered a bow that was exactly the correct depth. He praised British 'innovation and creativity', which is diplomatic code for 'we want your money and your regulatory loopholes'. The handshake that followed was firm. It lasted precisely 2.3 seconds. In photographs, it will be immortalised as the moment of a new partnership. In reality, it was a fleeting encounter between two men who will likely never see each other again.
Let us not forget the real beneficiaries of this deal. The consultants, the lawyers, the PR flacks who will spend the next decade generating paperwork thick enough to blot out the sun. Their children will attend private schools. Their mortgages will be paid. As for the rest of us, we may see a slightly improved selection of sushi in our local supermarkets. Progress.
And what of the sovereign territories that actually voted for this post-Brexit nirvana? They will get infrastructure projects. They will get 'levelling up'. They will get promises. Promises are cheap. They are cheaper than gin, and they leave a similar aftertaste.
In conclusion, this is a deal that will be hailed as a triumph by those who believe that the best way to prove oneself is to spend money you don’t have on things you don’t need to impress people you don’t like. It’s the international relations equivalent of buying a round for the house and then realising you’ve left your wallet at home.
But fear not. The ink is dry. The cameras have flashed. The press releases are being minted. Tomorrow, there will be another deal, another handshake, another opportunity for the great and the good to gather in a room and pretend they are masters of the universe. And we, the serfs, will pay. We always do.
