Eight years ago, when Theresa May charged across the Atlantic to meet the newly-enthroned Donald Trump, I was in the Oval Office as the much-obsessed-over bust of Winston Churchill was ceremonially reinstalled. My impression of Trump at the time was “old”. Up close, he seemed a frail figure, to the extent that as he manoeuvred the heavy bronze, I worried he might injure himself. Well, he survived that, and a great deal else, just fine, but watching him meet Keir Starmer on Thursday evening, the impression of visiting an elderly relative was only reinforced.
You may have sat with an aged grandparent, listening to them rambling on trying to pick the right moment to interject. Perhaps there was something you needed to persuade them to agree to: a visit to the doctor, a signature on a power of attorney, or Article Five of the Nato Treaty.
The prime minister was the latest in a queue of visitors to the president’s study, so tastefully decorated in the style I think of as “School of Fredo Corleone”. Like grandchildren who have heard that the house is about to be signed over to some Russian toyboy, European leaders have been reminding the president who his real friends are. Of course, you can’t just come out and say that. You have to be patient and flatter him. Starmer had brought along a gift that no one else could offer: “A letter from the king!”
The president was as thrilled as any centenarian receiving their royal telegram. “Am I supposed to read it right now?” he asked. Usually, these moments happen behind closed doors. But then usually, the recipient can remember what happened last week. “I’ve got to tell him what your reaction is!” the prime minister replied, bedside manner fully engaged.
Starmer politely reminded Great Uncle Don that he thinks people trafficking is Wrong
So we watched as the most powerful man in the world read the letter from the British sovereign. “Well, that is really nice,” Trump said, eventually. “I must make sure his signature’s on that,” he added, a trace of suspicion, “otherwise, it’s not quite as meaningful.” Had some misfiring synapse reminded him of the time he was ripped off by a concrete salesman in 1973?
Well, explained Starmer, speaking in the special slow tone of voice that in other contexts signals an imminent sponge bath: “This is really special. This has never happened before. This is unprecedented.” It was an invitation for a second state visit. Isn’t that something, Great Uncle Donald, he somehow managed not to add.
There were other people in the room, of course. On one sofa was UK National Security Adviser Jonathan Powell, thinking wistfully of the years when George W Bush was the worst US president of his lifetime. On the other was JD Vance, hair slicked back like a televangelist.
A journalist raised the news that the Tate brothers had landed in America, having been released by the Romanian government after pressure from the US government. “I know nothing about that,” Trump said, mystification on his face. “We’ll check it out.” Was he lying? Did aides intervene without his knowledge? Or was he wondering why all these people were standing around stopping him watching re-runs of Dynasty?
Here Starmer politely broke in, to remind Great Uncle Don that he thinks people trafficking is Wrong. “I didn’t know anything about it,” Trump said again. Where had the nurse gone?
The flattery was laid on thick. Starmer said Trump had created “a historic opportunity” in Ukraine. That’s certainly what Vladimir Putin thinks, but the Europeans are hoping to turn things in another direction. If an invite to Balmoral is the price, it’s cheap.
It seemed to be working, too. “We have a great relationship,” Trump said of Starmer. “I’m very impressed with him, very impressed with his wife, I must say, she’s a beautiful, great woman.” Was he going to add that he much preferred Mrs Starmer to that other girl Keir used to go out with? The prime minister swiftly moved things on.
“What a beautiful accent,” Trump said. “I would have been president 20 years ago if I had that accent.” For a man with a reputation as a tough negotiator, he really is very easily impressed.
On he rambled, like a poorly programmed chatbot: “‘God”, “love”, “family”, “wife” — they’re all my favourite words,” he said. “‘Tariff’ is about number four on the list.” Random numbers floated to the surface: the US had a $350 billion deficit with the EU, or was that how much it had sent to Ukraine, or was that something he’d read on a bus?
Starmer interjected quickly to say that the US had “a bit of a surplus” with the UK, as though reminding Great Uncle Don that he’d always said he wanted his grandchildren to have the jewellery.
Back to Ukraine: was the US going to back up British troops if they went in as peacekeepers? “Could you take on Russia by yourselves?” Trump asked Starmer. “Well … ” the prime minister replied, while inside his head all sorts of alarms flashed red. Later he would remind the president that this wasn’t the deal.
Volodymyr Zelensky was due to arrive at the White House the next day. Did Trump still think he was a dictator? “Did I say that?” he replied, mystified. “I can’t believe I said that.”
Perhaps it’s an act. Richard Nixon, another president who was very definitely not a crook, urged diplomats to tell foreign leaders he was a lunatic, with the goal that they would think he was too dangerous to confront. Trump may be hoping that everyone believes he’s too senile to take on. Or at least too senile to stand trial. In any case, I think we must reluctantly accept that Oval Office ornaments aren’t the guide to presidential character people thought they were.
