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To be prime minister of the Kingdom for a matter of days and already face the question of whether one trusts Lord Trump – well. This Author has observed many a political baptism, but rarely one so immediately and mercilessly aquatic.
Lord Burnham, in his first major interview as prime minister, sat before the Broadcasting Society‘s cameras and was asked, twice, whether he trusted the president of the American Colonies. Twice, he declined to say. Instead, he offered the immortal wisdom that “it’s a changing world, isn’t it.” Gentle Reader, this Author has heard more reassuring responses from a fortune-teller at a village fête. He did confirm that Lord Trump had been “really warm” in their first exchange, which is, one supposes, something – though warmth and trustworthiness have rarely been considered synonymous even in the most charitable drawing rooms of the Capital. The full interview shall be broadcast on the Broadcasting Society’s Panorama programme on Monday, by which point this Author shall have fortified herself accordingly.
In the very same interview – for Lord Burnham is nothing if not efficient with his revelations – the new prime minister ruled out an early general election with the brisk finality of a man returning an unwanted gift. “I’m going to rule it out,” said he. “I don’t think people want it.” The populace, one gathers, voted for a manifesto and shall receive one, whether they remember precisely what was in it or not. His Burnhamship appears determined to govern rather than campaign, which is, frankly, a novelty this Author shall observe with considerable interest.
Meanwhile, Lord Streeting, freshly installed as Defence Secretary, has spent his Sunday informing the nation that it ought not to be intimidated by Persia‘s “sabre-rattling.” One imagines the regime in Tehran receiving this bulletin with considerable irritation – there is nothing quite so deflating as rattling one’s sabre only to be told, publicly, that nobody is particularly rattled. Lord Streeting confirmed that the Kingdom had permitted the American Colonies to launch defensive operations from British bases, whilst declining to participate in offensive action against Persia – a distinction the government is evidently keen to press. He also volunteered that the Kingdom stands ready to lead a naval mission to clear mines from the Strait of Hormuz, which is rather more than most nations have offered and rather less than full-scale warfare, which is, one suspects, precisely the point.
On to a matter closer to every parlour window in the Kingdom: the weather. It being a Sunday, one had hoped the Meteorological Office might offer some respite, and indeed it does – for approximately forty-eight hours. Several unfortunate locations, including Usk in Monmouthshire and Exeter in Devon, are today finally escaping their third consecutive heatwave of the summer, having endured temperatures above the heatwave threshold for twenty-one days without pause. One almost feels sympathy for the thermometer. Alas, the reprieve is to be cruelly brief: high pressure is building to the south, temperatures are expected to climb once more toward 35°C by Wednesday, and the entire performance is set to begin again. This Author, surveying her wilting garden and her equally wilting constitution, can only observe that the British summer has developed a most alarming addiction to repetition.
Finally, to a matter of rather less geopolitical consequence but no less entertainment value: the Metropolitan Constabulary is investigating donations made to the Reform Society by a company solely owned by one of the party’s senior figures. Specifically, a firm controlled by Reform Society‘s deputy leader Richard Tice – who shall henceforth be known as Lord Tice – gave the party two donations of £250,000 apiece, funded in part by a Fiona Cottrell, described as a significant party donor and the mother of a convicted fraudster with close ties to Viscount Farage. Viscount Farage‘s acquaintances, one notes, are never dull. Lord Tice, for his part, expressed bewilderment at the investigation and enquired pointedly whether the Metropolitan Constabulary was engaged in a “politically motivated smear campaign.” The Constabulary, with admirable restraint, has thus far confined itself to investigating rather than debating. Gentle Reader, this Author shall monitor developments with the closest possible attention and the very finest cup of restorative tea she can procure.
I am, as ever, your most devoted observer – Lady Whistledown.