Lovely Aussie take on his latest tantrum:
'Trump's Favourite Girl Just Told Him to Go Fuck Himself (And She's Right)
He called her fantastic, beautiful, a woman who'd taken Europe by storm. Then she grew a spine and suddenly she's unacceptable.
Let me tell you something about Donald Trump and his relationships with world leaders. This man collects foreign leaders like a kid collects Pokémon cards, shows them off at Mar-a-Lago, calls them beautiful and fantastic and strong, and the second they develop a single functioning vertebra, he throws them in the bin like a scratched holographic Charizard.
First it was Macron. Oh, Emmanuel. Remember that? Trump loved that little French poodle. Held his hand. Mutual backslapping. The bromance of the century between a spray-tanned bankruptcy warning in a tie and a man who looks like he was genetically engineered in a lab to run a moderately successful brasserie. Then Macron said one thing Trump didn’t like and suddenly he was just another surrender monkey who didn’t know how to run his own country.
Now it’s Meloni’s turn.
Giorgia Meloni. Trump’s absolute favourite girl. His little European princess. She flew her arse to Washington for his inauguration when basically every other serious world leader on the planet found something better to do, like getting a root canal or staring into the void. She went to Mar-a-Lago. She smiled and nodded. She played the game. And Trump, in return, described her as “fantastic,” “beautiful,” a woman who’d “taken Europe by storm.”
He thought he owned her.
He does not own her.
Because here’s what happened. Trump decided to bomb the living shit out of Iran. And Meloni said, politely but very clearly: not with my bases you fucking don’t. She refused to let the US use Italian military facilities for combat operations. She denounced the war. And then, when this bloated, twice-impeached, adjudicated fraud of a president decided to take shots at the newly elected Pope, the actual Pope, the spiritual leader of 1.4 billion Catholics, the man who runs an institution so deeply embedded in Italian identity that it has its own fucking zip code, Meloni didn’t just push back. She went full mama bear.
“Those statements, particularly regarding the Pontiff, were unacceptable.”
That’s the Italian Prime Minister calling the President of the United States unacceptable. On the record. In public. To his face.
And then she went further. “I would not feel at ease in a society where religious leaders do what political leaders tell them to do.”
Read that again. Let it wash over you. The right-wing, post-fascist, MAGA-adjacent Italian Prime Minister just told Donald Trump that she lives in a democracy and religious leaders don’t answer to him. She essentially said: you can’t buy the Pope and you sure as shit can’t buy me.
Now how does the sentient golf cart with a God complex respond to this?
He tells an Italian newspaper he was “shocked.” Shocked! Like a man who’s been married three times and still gets surprised when a relationship hits turbulence. He says Meloni “did not care whether Iran had nuclear weapons and would blow up Italy in 2 minutes.” Because that’s the level of geopolitical sophistication we’re working with here. Just raw, uncut, crayon-on-a-napkin threat assessment from a man who once suggested injecting disinfectant into human lungs.
And then the knife: “I thought she had courage, but I was wrong.”
There it is. The Trump playbook. Love bomb. Idealise. Devalue. Discard. It’s the same shit every time. You’re fantastic until you’re not. You’re strong until you disagree. You’re beautiful until you develop an opinion. These are not diplomatic relationships. They’re not even friendships. They’re transactions, and the moment you stop paying the toll, you get the same treatment as Hillary Clinton, John McCain, Jeff Sessions, Mike Pence, and every other person who briefly served their purpose and then committed the unforgivable sin of having a thought of their own.
Macron figured it out. Meloni just figured it out. Even Farage has probably figured it out by now and he’s still desperately refreshing his notifications hoping for a crumb of attention from a man who can’t remember what he had for breakfast.
The thing that’s genuinely beautiful about this moment, and I do not use that word lightly, is that Meloni is not some lefty. She is not a progressive. She is not Jacinda Ardern or Angela Merkel. She came up through post-fascist Italian politics. She has views that would make half of Europe uncomfortable. This is not some bleeding-heart liberal standing up to the bully. This is his own people. His own lane. His supposed ideological soulmate. And even she looked at what he’s doing, the illegal war, the bullying of religious institutions, the demand for absolute loyalty, and said nope.
That should tell you everything.
When you’ve lost your favourite girl, when Macron won’t return your calls and Meloni’s blocking you on diplomatic channels, when even the people who flew to your inauguration are publicly expressing solidarity with the Pope you just attacked, maybe, just maybe, the problem isn’t them.
But it won’t land. Because this is a man who has spent 79 years on this earth without once, not a single fucking time, asking himself whether he might be wrong about something.
Italy follows Europe. Europe follows its conscience. And Donald Trump, the most isolated president in American history, sits in the Oval Office getting more furious by the day that the world refuses to bend the knee.
Shocking stuff.
Truly shocking.'
