In a display of statecraft so profoundly pathetic it borders on the avant-garde, the British government has finally given the green light to China’s new ‘mega embassy’ at Royal Mint Court. It is a 20,000-square-metre monument to national irrelevance, a sprawling temple of surveillance and soft-power subversion strategically placed in the heart of a city that has long since replaced its spine with a revolving door for foreign capital. For those keeping score at home, that is roughly the size of three football pitches, which is fitting, given how easily the UK’s leadership has been kicked around the global stage since they decided that ‘sovereignty’ was something you could eat for breakfast.

The approval of the Royal Mint Court site—a name dripping with the irony of a defunct empire—is the ultimate admission that the United Kingdom is no longer a player, but a plaything. At 20,000 square meters, this isn't just a diplomatic outpost; it is a regional headquarters for the eventual liquidation of the British state. The government's decision, announced with the kind of weary resignation one usually associates with a debtor surrendering their car keys to a repo man, is being framed as a diplomatic necessity. In reality, it is a fire sale. The UK, post-Brexit and pre-collapse, is scouring the couch cushions for change, and Beijing is happy to provide it, provided they can set up a massive, high-tech listening post within shouting distance of the Tower of London.

The ‘security concerns’ raised by MPs and the intelligence community are particularly hilarious. To suggest that there are ‘concerns’ about a massive, sovereign-controlled fortress being built in the middle of London is like being concerned that the arsonist you just sold a gallon of gasoline to might have a thing for matches. It’s far too late for concerns. The security of the realm was sold off in the 1990s; the dignity was auctioned in the 2000s. Now, we are simply arguing over the height of the walls that will keep the British public out of their own history. The intelligence apparatus will huff and puff about ‘risks,’ but we all know the script: a few stern letters will be written, a few ‘mitigation strategies’ will be touted to the press, and then everyone will head to a gala sponsored by a conglomerate they can’t pronounce.

On the Right, we have the ‘sovereignty’ enthusiasts, the same collection of grey-suited ghouls who promised a ‘Global Britain’ that would stand tall and negotiate from a position of strength. It turns out ‘standing tall’ was merely a prerequisite for reaching the top shelf to hand over the title deeds to our most historic sites. They talk about the ‘special relationship’ with the US while checking their bank balances for Yuan-denominated transfers. They are the party of the market, and the market has decided that the UK is a distressed asset. Their greed is only matched by their incompetence, a winning combination that has led us to this point of geopolitical necrophilia.

On the Left, we have the performative human rights brigade, whose outrage lasts exactly as long as it takes for their social media team to find a trending hashtag. They will weep for the cameras about democratic values and the plight of the oppressed, all while wearing fast-fashion garments produced in the very factories they claim to despise. Their ‘moral’ objections are a thin veneer over a total lack of any viable economic alternative. They hate the deal, but they love the money that keeps their bureaucratic dreams on life support. They are the janitors of the decline, sweeping the floor while the new tenants move the heavy furniture in.

Royal Mint Court, once the place where the Empire’s coins were struck, will now be the place where the final nails are driven into the coffin of British autonomy. There is something almost poetic about it, if you have a sufficiently dark sense of humor. The very site that symbolized British economic power is being converted into a foreign enclave that signals British economic desperation. The ‘mega embassy’ will stand as a permanent reminder that London is no longer a capital city in the traditional sense; it is a high-security safe deposit box for the world's elite, guarded by the very people the government claims to be wary of.

As the construction begins and the bugging devices are inevitably woven into the drywall, the British public will be told that this is a win for ‘investment.’ It’s a win for investment in the same way that a sinking ship is a win for the coral reef. We are becoming a footnote in our own geography, a theme park of royal nonsense and rainy streets, managed by foreign interests who have the foresight to buy what we are too stupid to keep. Welcome to the new London, where the sun never sets on the interests of everyone except the people who actually live here.