There is a specific kind of tragic comedy inherent in watching a man like Sir Keir Starmer try to interact with a phenomenon like Donald Trump. It is akin to watching a substitute geography teacher attempt to negotiate with a rabid wolverine by explaining the school's detention policy. It is painful, it is embarrassing, and—if you have the correct level of detachment from the inevitable collapse of Western civilization—it is absolutely hilarious.

The latest episode in this farce comes courtesy of the looming trade war, a delightful economic suicide pact that the United States seems intent on signing with the rest of the world. Confronted with threats from across the Atlantic that threaten to turn the global economy into a smoking crater, the British Prime Minister has donned his most serious spectacles, furrowed his brow, and declared that a trade war is "in no-one's interest." He went on to describe the situation as "very serious" and suggested that the correct approach is through "calm discussion."

"Calm discussion." Let those words roll around in your mouth like a marble made of pure, unadulterated delusion. Starmer is operating under the quaint, antiquated assumption that politics is a rational pursuit conducted by rational actors who care about things like "interests" or "logic" or "math." He believes that if he just explains, clearly and calmly, that tariffs hurt consumers and stifle growth, the chaotic force of nature currently occupying the American psyche will nod sagely and say, "By Jove, Keir, you’re right. Let’s put away the bludgeon."

It is adorable, really. It is the political equivalent of a golden retriever bringing a tennis ball to an active artillery range. Starmer looks at the geopolitical landscape—a hellscape defined by populist screaming, performative cruelty, and the weaponization of ignorance—and decides that what is missing is a nice, sensible chat. He is bringing a binder full of actuarial tables to a monster truck rally.

To say that a trade war is "in no-one's interest" is a statement of such blinding obviousness that it loops back around to being meaningless. Of course it’s not in anyone’s economic interest. But since when has the modern political right cared about economics? Since when has the modern political left had the spine to do anything other than point out the obvious while getting pummeled? We are living in an era where "interests" are defined not by GDP growth or cost-of-living metrics, but by vibes, resentment, and how loud the applause is at a rally in Ohio. Trump doesn’t care about the price of imported steel in Manchester; he cares about the sensation of dominance. Dominance is very much in his interest. Chaos is in his interest.

Meanwhile, Starmer represents the terminal stage of technocratic liberalism: the belief that if you are just boring enough, the bad things will go away. He stands there, practically beige in human form, insisting on the "right approach." But there is no right approach when your opponent is playing a completely different game. The UK is standing on the precipice of economic irrelevance, a post-Brexit island drifting aimlessly into the Atlantic, and its captain is suggesting that perhaps the iceberg would like to sit down for a consultation.

The phrase "very serious" is perhaps the only accurate thing Starmer said, though not for the reasons he thinks. It is serious because the people in charge of the global order are essentially two distinct species of incompetent. On one side, you have the American Right: a greedy, protectionist juggernaut fueled by grievance and incapable of understanding a supply chain. On the other side, you have the European/British establishment: a collection of hollow suits who believe that rules still matter in a world that burned the rulebook five years ago for warmth.

Starmer's plea for calm is not leadership; it is a confession of impotence. It is the sound of a man who knows he has absolutely no leverage, no cards to play, and no backup plan. He cannot threaten the US; he cannot charm the US; he can only hope that by being aggressively dull, he might bore the Americans into submission. But history suggests that when a "calm discussion" meets a loud, irrational threat, the loud threat wins. Not because it is right, but because it is willing to break things.

So, buckle up. The trade war is coming, regardless of whose interest it serves. Your goods will get more expensive, your currency will fluctuate wildly, and the global markets will convulse. And through it all, you can take comfort in the fact that somewhere in Downing Street, Keir Starmer is calmly explaining to an empty room why this really shouldn't be happening, while the rest of us pay the price for a world run by morons and cowards.