It’s like the actual Second Coming of Christ isn’t it? Except with marginally more Hullabaloo than I suspect would accompany the actual Rapture.
Seriously, I’m 100% positive there’d be less fuss if it was the Lord God Almighty who touched down at London Stansted rather than Donald Trump and his scarily flawless other half Melania.
Britain laid on the largest military ceremony for a visiting foreign leader in living memory – 1,300 military personnel, 120 horses and a 41-gun salute fired simultaneously from six World War One-era guns on the castle’s east lawn. I’ve been listening to General Sir Mike Jackson recently and I’m pretty certain that’s about half the British Army’s manpower and our top-line cutting edge weaponry. If Putin really wanted to invade he’s missed a trick today.
What is wonderful though is watching Trump interact with our A-list royals – he may be the most powerful man on the planet but he looks at King Charles and he knows…
Charles of course is everything Trump isn’t, but would desperately love to be: couth, cultured, and most importantly of all.. British.
From the way The Donald insisted on a ride in that Wonderful World of Disney 18th century state coach, dripping with gilt and footmen (fact: Only the Queen could ever look cool in that coach – everyone else looks like they’re at a funfair. Especially Trump) to the way he chummies-up to King Charles, and William and Kate.. ingratiating himself at every turn, it all screams “please make me a Brit!”
It’s actually quite charming.
This is, by most measures, the most powerful man in the world – but he knows he’s totally outclassed by our A-list royals.
Oh, and if any “scrap the royals” Lefties ever wanted evidence of the massive soft power the Windsors bring to the table, it was right there today.
Yes, Donald would give his eye-teeth to have a history he could trace back like Charles and his clan – indeed Trump name-drops his Scottish ancestry at every chance.
But his tragedy of course is that he never will be.
Being British is in our bones, deference, manners, and proper protocol is coded into in our dna.
Which is why Trump’s apparent “buddy punch” on Prince William’s arm today had so many Brits spitting their Earl Grey out.
Protocol Donald protocol!
But it’s not like he hasn’t got form.
When he was last here in 2019 he appeared to have touched the Queen’s back as she rose for the toast at a state banquet in Buckingham Palace.
Many were demanding he be sent to the Tower, but given the President’s, erm, “colourful history” with the fairer sex we should perhaps be grateful he refrained from goosing the Royal behind.
Indeed, if I was William I’d be rather more concerned about Trump apparently telling Kate she was “beautiful” than any punch on the arm.
If memory serves, America’s President once ill-advisedly exclaimed: “You know I’m automatically attracted to beautiful women, I just start kissing them. And when you’re a star they let you do it, you can do anything.”
He then went on to say something pussy-related which would have Mrs Slocham spinning in her grave.
Nope, when it comes to being British The Donald is simply never going to make the cut.
But in a way it is the crassness, the brashness, and entire absence of self-awareness which defines the man – the same way it defines America.
Melania on the other hand may look like she was created by an AI algorithm but actually she would make the much better Brit – gifted as she must be with those most British of traits, patience, tolerance and infinite resolve in the face of impossible odds, which I think we can safely assume are absolute pre-requisites being Mrs Trump.
