The Hand of the clown.

"The king shits and the hand wipes ..."

“The King shits and the Hand wipes…” – Jaime Lannister.

That line is one of the most vicious in the Game of Thrones saga, delivered as Jamie Lannister asserts his power over Ned Stark although Stark holds the title Hand of the King.

Today it feels almost prophetic.

Because in Britain, we don’t have a leader. We have a Hand. A Hand without power. A Hand who doesn’t rule, who doesn’t act, who doesn’t speak with conviction or purpose or fire.

But he wipes. He’s gotten good at it.

Here we have Sir Keir Starmer—and he’s just been publicly humiliated by Donald Trump. Again. Because he is weak.

And because he is weak, this country is weak.

This is not satire. This is reality. The man who leads Britain—the man who campaigned on restoring dignity, competence, and moral clarity—is repeatedly trampled by a reality TV huckster turned wannabe dictator.

And what’s worse? He basically asked for it.

Let’s unpack this.

Earlier this week, Starmer’s government finally did something approaching boldness on foreign policy. They announced that the UK would move to recognise a Palestinian state at the UN General Assembly in September.

About time, right? A moral stance. A statement of decency. A chance to step out of America’s shadow, even briefly.

Except, predictably, it came with caveats. The UK would recognise Palestine if Israel agrees to a ceasefire, if they halt annexation plans, if humanitarian access improves. A hedge. A wobble. A masterclass in foot-shuffling.

Something which, as others have noticed, Starmer is more than capable of backing out of when the pressure comes.

Still, it was a start.

And then Trump opened his mouth.

The criminal who masquerades as President of the United States tore into Starmer’s announcement, calling it “a reward for Hamas” and making it clear that, when push comes to shove, the US wouldn’t support it.

He said they hadn’t even discussed the matter—which directly contradicts what Starmer’s team told the press.

So either Trump is lying (entirely plausible), or Starmer was desperate to appear aligned with Trump’s views, and Trump made it clear he doesn’t give a toss what Starmer says or does. Either way, it’s a mess.

And the symbolism is the worst part of all.

This wasn’t just a policy disagreement. This was a power play.

Trump slapped Starmer down like a schoolboy pretending to be a grown-up. And Starmer, the great moderate, the supposed adult in the room, is once again left looking like a fool.

He knew this could happen.

He knew that aligning too closely with Trump was risky. That the man is unstable, volatile, narcissistic, and not someone you want to be seen chasing. But Starmer did it anyway. Because he’s desperate—for legitimacy, for approval, for affirmation from someone he thinks holds the real cards.

And this is the bit that should make every single one of us furious: Starmer knows better.

He knows what the right thing to do is.

He knows that Palestine deserves recognition.

He knows that Gaza is a humanitarian catastrophe. He knows that Israel’s hardline government, with its racist settlers and Netanyahu’s authoritarianism, has no interest in peace.

Still, he dithers. He hesitates. He waits for Washington—or Mar-a-Lago—to give him permission.

He knows Brexit was an unpardonable folly and that we should be seeking to rejoin the EU, where we’d be less exposed to the lunatic whims of the moron in the White House. But he fears the right-wing press too much—even when he knows what’s in the national interest.

Starmer sums up the basic cowardice of the Labour right: excellent at punching down, permanently terrified of confronting any serious foe.

This is not leadership.

In his dealings with Trump, it is more akin to servitude.

This is a man who would rather be liked by the powerful than respected by the people. A man who wants to look strong without ever risking anything. A man who wants to claim moral high ground while asking permission to stand there.

And so, Trump humiliates him.

Publicly. Openly. With glee.

He doesn’t even bother pretending to be polite. Starmer’s attempt at foreign policy independence is casually stamped on, and the message is crystal clear: You’re not on our level. You don’t matter.

It's the most public and painful exposure yet of what Starmer really is: a man caught between wanting to do the right thing and being terrified of the consequences. A man so cautious, so frightened of the press, the polls, and the foreign policy hawks that he’ll walk into a bear trap with a smile on his face.

And where does that leave Britain?

Nowhere.

It leaves us looking weak. It leaves us with followers, not leaders. It leaves us exactly where the Tories left us: irrelevant on the world stage, reduced to flattering American strongmen in hopes they’ll throw us a bone.

Remember when Johnson humiliated himself fawning over Trump? Remember the Brexit grovelling, the “special relationship” cringe, the toe-curling desperation to be seen as important?

Starmer is doing the exact same thing.

Different party. Same posture. Bent over.

And it’s not just about foreign policy.

This speaks to the wider rot at the heart of Starmerism. The belief that the best way to lead is to avoid offence. To manage decline quietly. To talk big but act small. To pretend we still matter while behaving like we don’t.

The truth is, Trump doesn’t respect Starmer because Starmer gives him no reason to.

You don’t earn respect by nodding along.

You earn it by standing your ground.

But Starmer never does.

He talks about statehood for Palestine but won’t commit.

He talks about economic fairness but won’t tax wealth.

He talks about clean government but won’t purge his party of lobbyists.

He talks about vision but governs like a bureaucrat.

And now, when given a chance to show backbone on the world stage, he allows himself to be publicly embarrassed.

Trump, for all his monstrous faults, has one thing Starmer completely lacks: confidence. Bravado. Swagger.

Call it what you like. It’s the absolute belief that he is the main character, that the world revolves around him.

It’s repugnant. But it’s powerful.

Starmer doesn’t have that. He projects a kind of haunted earnestness, like a lawyer trying to remember his lines in court. And in the presence of men like Trump, he folds. Every time.

That’s why we don’t have a leader.

We have a shadow of a leader. A political technician.

A man who knows how to win a procedural argument but has no idea how to inspire, to rally, to stand tall in a fight.

So what we’ve seen today is a grim little farce.

The Prime Minister of the United Kingdom tried to act bold.

And Donald Trump stamped on him like something briefly seen scuttling out from under the sofa.

It was undignified. It was humiliating. It was predictable.

The King shits and the Hand wipes.

Only this time, the Hand didn’t even have the chance to wipe before the shit poured down on him.

It’s pathetic.