The visits of Keir Starmer and president Zelensky to the Oval Office last week were both agonising to behold, in very different ways. We witnessed two examples of how/how not (opinions vary which was which) to approach the court of what is described memorably vividly in David Mamet’s brilliant 1987 film House Of Games (nothing to do with Richard Osman) as ‘The United States of Kiss My Ass’.
They were a bit like visits to the Wonka factory. Starmer tried so very hard to be ever-so-grateful best behaviour thank-you-for-having-me golden boy Charlie Bucket; while Zelensky went in as Veruca Salt: ‘I want a party with rooms full of laughter, ten thousand tons of ice cream!’. I found both excruciating.
The next time I overindulge and need an urgent purgative, I’ll only have to call to mind Starmer’s lickspittle letter from the King. The ceremonial passing of this royal scroll was intended to flatter Donald Trump’s colossal ego.
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