Documented horse fondler W. Mittens Romney went to London-towne yesterday, his first port of call on a magical journey that will take him to Poland and Israel on a mission to show that he is a Very Serious Person and worthy of directing ‘Merica’s foreign policy upon his deposition of the noted tyrant Barak Husayn Ubamma.
London, piece of cake right? “Special Relationship” and all of that. It’s an easy place to get his feet wet on diplomacy and foreign policy, because Mother Country. Mittenz can iron out any wrinkles in his schtick in Merrie Olde Ynglande before going to Israel, where there are actual policy challenges that might require his Commander-in-Chiefly attentions.
Let me be clear, clearer even than the Kenyan/Hawaiian/Indonesian usurper likes to be: For Mitt Romney, England should be a “home game”. His Lord High Hairgel’s ancestry has been traced back to Preston, one of the incubators of the Industrial Revolution in the northwest of England near Manchester and Liverpool. There is even a two-block long Romney Street in the City of Westminster, the ancient core of London, that presumably was once a plague-ridden open sewer of prostitution and silly walks. How appropriate.
When Bammers Hussein and his fetching Nubian consort Michelle Antoinette first paid a presidential visit to London, the bureaucrat in the State Department responsible for acquiring little gifts to give to Her Majesty the Queen went and fucked it all up by forgetting that Amerikan DVDees don’t work on the superior PAL format used in British teevees and that an American iPod won’t charge in a UK electrical outlet without a clunky, decidedly un-magesterial transformer.
What I’m getting at here is that Barry set the bar pretty low. The Queen’s unprecedented affection for the graceful, beautiful, intelligent, and talented Michelle saved the day, barely. There was no way that Mitt Romney could do worse…
“No!”, you say. “Don’t lead me on like this. Not even R-Money could fuck this up, right?”
Ahahahaha, WRONG, sucka!
Yesterday, Tuesday 26 July of Her Britannic Highness’s 2012, Mitt Romney had arguably the worst day that any American has ever had in London. First, before Mittens had even a chance to insult anyone face-to-face he went on the NBCee news with Brian Williams and called into question London’s preparedness to host the Olympics:
“You know, it’s hard to know just how well it will turn out [...] There are a few things that were disconcerting, the stories about the – private security firm not having enough people – the supposed strike of the immigration and customs officials, that obviously is not something which is encouraging.”
Mittens is correct about all of this, but that’s not the point. Britain has spent billions of pounds on hosting the Olympics, including massive infrastructure improvements and a security arrangement worthy of 1984, so do you think they, y’know, might be a little touchy about having the whole thing shitcanned by a foreigner? Yes actually, they were. So Mitt’s first humiliation was to be publicly rebuked by the Prime Minister David Cameron, an aristocrat to whom Mittens should have a natural affinity.
Quoting the Guardian’s brilliant live-blog of the day’s Romney-related disasters:
“We are holding an Olympic Games in one of the busiest, most active, bustling cities anywhere in the world,” Cameron said. “Of course it’s easier if you hold an Olympic Games in the middle of nowhere.” (Mitt Romney hosted the Olympics in Utah, which we do not consider the middle of nowhere even if Cameron does, in 2002.) The Telegraph headline read, “Mitt Romney questions whether Britain is ready for the Games.”
When it was brought to the attention of Ralph Becker, the Mayor of Salt Lake City that his city was just belittled by the Prime Minister of Great Britain, his spokesman fired back with this:
“While those of us who have had the fortune of visiting London know it is certainly a wonderful city, Prime Minister Cameron’s comments likely reflect his lack of familiarity with Salt Lake City. He can stop by any time. We’d love to have him and are happy to send a map so he doesn’t run into any trouble locating the middle of nowhere.”
DEEP BURN. So before most ‘Mericans were even awake, the erstwhile President of USA America had caused a diplomatic incident between two countries with normally excellent relations.
Boosh. Then what?
Then Mittens went to meet with senior government ministers at Whitehall, the spiritual home of the world’s technocratic elite. It did not go well, with the Daily Mail quoting anonymous officials that his visit was “apparently devoid of charm, warmth, humour or sincerity”, “a total car crash”, and “worse than Sarah Palin”.
GAH. Then what?
Then Mittens went to meet with Ed Milliband, the leader of the Labour Party, Britain’s main opposition party. Romney did not know Mr. Milliband’s name and referred to him publicly as “Mr. Leader”.
Woof. Then what?
Then later in the day Mittens referred publicly to an intelligence briefing he received from John Sawyer, the head of Military Intelligence 6, an agency so secret that its existence was not officially acknowledged until the 1990s.
OY GEVALT. Then what?
By then, the vicious British media had begun to tear R-Money down as a troll and a rude, ignorant embarrassment to America. Then #Romneyshambles began to trend world wide on Twitter, a brilliant reference to the “omnishambles” of the profane, fictional Downing Street spin-meister Malcolm Tucker from the BBC’s The Thick of It. The Daily Mail has a great recap of the best of the UK media’s reaction, so does the Atlantic, as does Talking Points Memo.
Jesus Khrist. Then what?
Then Boris Johnson, the Mayor of London got in on the act, having fun at Mittens’s expense with 60,000 of his closest friends.
And then, in a parallel universe where he is capable of feeling shame, Mitt Romney’s humiliation was complete.