For most people, the prospect of a speech in front of any given group is enough to get the stomach churning and the butterflies aflutter. But imagine the sort of predicament which befell Theresa May, in real terms still finding her feet as Britain’s Prime Minister, when she found herself compelled to utter a few words in front of a very special audience indeed, as part of the latest European Council meeting in Brussels.
The European Council of course – as the well-informed Brits know without hesitation – comprises the heads of state of all the members of the European Union. With a President in the form of Donald Tusk, it provides the general thrust of the EU’s political direction, while the President of the European Commission, the EU’s executive branch, currently Jean-Claude Juncker, sits in for good measure.
With twenty-eight EU member states, that makes a total of twenty-nine people to speak in front of, not including yourself of course, a daunting prospect for any person. What’s more, Theresa May is merely the head of a small island nation, whereas the European Union which she is seeking to negotiate her way out from represents the biggest trading bloc in the whole wide world.
Meetings of the European Council in Brussels tend to take place over dinner. And on this occasion the participants gathered for a six-hour session, during which they enjoyed pan-fried scallops, crown of lamb with roast figs, and iced vanilla parfait, while discussing mass migration and the ongoing conflict in Syria. In the face of such pressing issues and such tasty treats, Theresa May was given just a five minute slot in which to prattle on Brexit, and this not until 1 am, the nodding hours of the early morning.
So as the other twenty-seven leaders and two presidents chowed down their continental suppers, Theresa May was left out in the cold, to stalk the Brussels streets in her perilously balanced stilettos. Such summits are conducted without the aid of the usual retinue of advisers, and the few helpers brought along by May had unfortunately forgotten to pack good English fare like pork pies, scotch eggs, and watercress sandwiches.
What food is there for a lone traveller on a dark night in a strange and foreign country? As May prowled using only her senses, she passed by an array of Brussels vendors bustling and bellowing and hawking the peculiar wares of a local and world cuisine. Waffles sprinkled with sugar and deep-fried churros were deemed too calorific. Mussels and caricoles appeared liable to poison. Sausage with cabbage was reminiscent of the Kraut, while kebab cuts conjured images of a Turkic horde onrushing.
So May in the end settled for a hole in the wall, a humble friterie, from which she procured with some difficulty chips thickly cut and fried twice, offered in a cone with an assortment of toppings. Disavowing the dubiously named samourai and andalouse sauces, foregoing meat stews and sour pickles, she made do with a few squirts from a bottle of simple red ketchup.
With the EU refusing to allow formal negotiations on Brexit before Britain invokes Article 50, May’s brief speech – in which she confirmed her desire to leave but asked for a full role until the point of departure – was met after all that with a stony silence. Only the waiters throughout were reportedly murmuring and fidgeting, more than ready to clear the tables.
Jean-Claude Juncker, asked subsequently by a BBC reporter about May’s presentation, responded with a ‘pfff’ and walked on most scornfully. And ‘parp’ was the sound of May’s rearguard action, her stomach still playing up after all those pommes.
