It’s like the sordid saga of the ubiquitous blow-up doll Jordan and the toad-faced Antipodean Peter Andre: they love each other, then they don’t. Then they do again. Then there’s a massive row about nothing, with all media hell breaking loose; mirrors are smashed, cars are crashed, million-pound photo opportunities are finally dashed. Of course, the truth is that there was nothing there in the first place.
The same goes for this country’s so-called “special relationship” with the United States. When the Scheissamis want to use our airstrips for launching their shoot-em-up forays in countries most of their population cannot even place on a map, we’re their best friends. When they want to flood our markets with their cheap shit, we’re their strongest trading partner. When they want a mentally deficient man extradited on espionage charges, we happily entertain their nonsense. However when the boot is on the other foot, it’s suddenly a completely different story.
And so it goes with the story of the catastrophic BP oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico, which has seen US politicians temporarily put the guns and abortion debate to a side and crank into loudmouthed action. Then we have our Kenyan friend Barack Obama serve up the usual transatlantic “kick ass” bullshit. Because yes, he can.
I can well imagine American politicians whose global knowledge extends to their neighbour’s back yard braying on about the evil that is “Breddish Pedroleeum”, blissfully unaware of the fact that the company has not been truly “British” for decades. But then we are talking about a country whose politicians temporarily renamed French fries to “freedom fries” for no other reason than the fact that the French had the audacity to take umbrage to the Americans’ crooked meddling in Iraq.
Had I written this piece five years ago, it would almost certainly have been far more vitriolic than it actually is; however having been to the United States, I was pleasantly surprised by how nice the people we met were. But then we did stay in Beverly Hills and spent most of our time in Santa Monica, which is something of a haven for America’s educated, worldly-wise and passport-owning minority; I never got the chance to speak to the sort of person who’d fly a yellow ribbon for murderer Amanda Knox or one of those monosyllabic politicians whose main concerns are guns, Israel, abortion and the impending rapture.
No offence to those educated Americans out there, but I think we should take the so-called “special relationship” and tell Obama and pals to shove it up their collective arse – or should I say ass, which in this country happens to also be another name for the Democratic Party emblem. When he assumed the presidency early last year, I had actually hoped that Obama would cut a completely different figure from his rather more predictable predecessor George W. Bush; the truth is that he is actually worse. Putting aside his lame attempts at gaining favour with all sides – his bid to woo the Muslim world was particularly cloying – he has now resorted to the sort of pathetic and rather clichéd Americanism that only serves to make him an international laughing stock.
That said, I guess that that this is just one way to get even the laziest obese pickup-driving and permanently baseball-capped fuckwit to get off his comfy couch and grab his gun – got a problem? Yeah, let’s kick some ass.
Good on Boris Johnson for taking a decent stance on this; many may deride him as something of a buffoon, but when it comes to making a stand, he is as good as the best of them. After all, what is needed here is good old common sense – not the sort of rhetoric you’d hear in some 1950s Western movie.
The US Environmental Protection Agency has considered barring BP from future government contracts, while politicians across the political spectrum have emphasised the “foreign” nature of the firm.
Well of course. Let’s just forget the skullduggery your own government is up to and blame those horrible Britishers. Instead of engaging your brain, let’s instead invoke the spirit of 1776 and the Boston Tea Party. And in true kick-ass American style, let’s follow that with a Steven Seagal movie featuring a particularly nasty Englishman with a clipped accent and even even more clipped attitude played by Jeremy Irons. Irons of course would be the stiff-necked businessman with a second home in the Costwolds (of course!) who threatens to blackmail the US Government with an oil spill, only to be foiled by the pony-tailed one and a series of physically impossible martial arts moves.
We could call it Hard to Spill.