Trumpetry and Trumpery - state visit sketch
'The Donald' arrived in London for his second bite of the State Visit cherry last night as the clouds loured and rain bespattered the camera lenses.
As Air Force One landed on the tarmac at Stansted Airport, actually in Essex - and, let's face it, the visit could only get better from there on - the assembled media jostled for a glimpse of the arriving guests. Unfortunately for the BBC's coverage, their North America political correspondent, Gary O'Donoghue, who is blind and not a small man, blocked the camera as Trump, Melania and entourage were bundled into a US army helicopter (which, we were helpfully informed, was named Marine Two) and whisked away to Central London, leaving the presidential VC-25 standing on the runway. Where are Palestine Action when you need them? I couldn't help wondering. All in all a bit of a waste of effort for the BBC's OB unit. Like most of us finding ourselves at Stansted Airport, I bet they wondered why they'd bothered.
Things weren't much better for the Beeb this morning as its cameras struggled to focus on Trump's helicopter through the leaden skies - not helped by there being decoy choppers in use too - after it left Winfield House, the US Ambassador's very des res in the centre of Regent's Park (the second largest private garden in London after Buckingham Palace we were told) where the Trumps had 'overnighted'. Perhaps the idea was to give Potus and Flotus a good night's sleep on an American mattress before subjecting them to the rigours of a lumpy four-poster state bed at Windsor Castle. After all, it would be a disaster if the President woke up grumpy after his six-hour transatlantic flight. Billions of dollars of trade deals hinge on his being rested and in good spirits.
That seemed to have worked (maybe helped by a good ole American breakfast with strong coffee) as Trump and Melania landed in Windsor Great Park - he looking pleased to be there, she, as usual, hiding her feelings under a wide-brimmed hat - they were greeted by the Prince and Princess of Wales who walked them over the lawn to where their carriages awaited. The President and King Charles set off in the Irish State Coach (more bling presumably) while the First Lady and Queen Camilla followed behind in the Scottish State Coach. There were three further coaches but where they were from was anyone's guess - Wales, England and the Isle of Man perhaps? - and who was in them no-one seemed to know or care.
It was an odd sort of carriage procession as it wended its way through empty parkland, totally enclosed by a three metre-high steel perimeter fence erected to keep the oiks out. The whole point of these things is to wave at the adoring crowds, who wave back, but as that was never going to happen, it was probably wise to keep it a private affair. They hadn't even bused in a load of Windsor primary school kids to wave flags and cheer enthusiastically, presumably fearing charges of child cruelty. There were, however, plenty of soldiers, sailors and airmen for the President to look at, though one couldn't help wondering if he was eyeing the immaculately manicured park for its potential as a golf course.
And then there were the horses, loads and loads of horses, and lots of First World War gun carriages, possibly a subtle hint about our current military capability for keeping Putin at bay without modern US armaments. The gilded carriages finally pulled into the quadrangle of the Castle where a military band, trumpeters and a guard-of-honour awaited - the latter being, of course, the largest seen in living memory. Yes, it was to be a day of superlatives, a full-on pomp and pageantry show of the kind we do so well - quite why we do it is unclear but I suppose it covers awkward silences at moments such as these.
Having taken the salute, Trump was invited to inspect the guard-of-honour on the flawless grass, this time choreographed to clearly place Trump in the lead with the King walking deliberately behind, presumably to avoid risking a repeat of his 2019 State Visit where Trump barged in front of the late Queen in his eagerness to look at all the red tunics and bearskins. After that they all went indoors, presumably for a light lunch to sharpen their appetite for the State Banquet in St George's Hall this evening.
Later, they were all out again to watch yet another military display on the East Lawn (again, flawless as AstroTurf - no hosepipe ban in force here apparently), this time featuring marching bands and pipers. The Beating Retreat ceremony was another first for in incoming visitor but Trump was probably distracted by how nicely the drum major's golden tunic would enhance all his glittering embellishments to the Oval Office. The appearance of the Old Guard Fifes and Drums from the US Army Band was a diplomatic nod to the events of 1776, whose 250th anniversary falls next year. Charles and Camilla are probably dreading a return invite for that one. Unfortunately, low cloud prevented the planned fly-past but at least the Red Arrows managed to do their bit before the party beat their own retreat back to the Castle.
The State Banquet was a gob-smacking spectacle, the 50 metre-long table groaning with solid gold items from the Grand Service, something which Trump could not have helped noticing with an envious eye. The music, provided by the Duchess of Edinburgh's String Orchestra, included a medley of James Bond theme tunes - he loves only gold certainly applies to this Guest of Honour, though whether he has the Midas touch is debatable.. The speeches were gracious (Charles) and mostly gaffe-free (Trump) and the toasts warm. Both men had seemingly heeded Disraeli's advice about flattering royalty: "lay it on with a trowel". It was all going swimmingly.
But just in case anyone needed reminding that Trump hadn't flown all this way simply for some posh nosh and warm words he had brought with him to the table (literally) a posse of US tech bros, including Sam Altman, chief executive of OpenAI, Tim Cook, chief executive of Apple, and Jensen Huang, the founder of Nvidia. This was, after all, about mega- (or is that MAGA?) buck investment into the UK. Keir Starmer and Rachel Reeves must have been floating, rather like the pecan foam on the specially created whisky sour cocktail the guests had enjoyed beforehand. The King, though, might have been musing on the old adage about the advisability of using a long spoon when supping with the devil.
And so candles (all 139 of them) burned to bedward - let's see what the morrow brings.