What the deuce! Coco’s smashing

THE Looming Tower is a gripping TV series about the infighting between American intelligence agencies that allowed the 9/11 attacks to happen.

From a British perspective, it gets truly chilling after the Twin Towers fall when head of US counter-terrorism Richard Clarke, who is explaining to Condoleezza Rice that Saudi Arabian nationals are responsible, is told that the administration “wants the attacks linked to Iraq”.

So the Al-qaeda threat is ignored, Bush goes after Saddam Hussein in the name of his father and Britain – under starstruck peacock Tony Blair – follows him into the bloody quagmire, without any evidence, claiming that our “special relationship” with the USA demands nothing less.

It was a catastrophic and totally unnecessary error. A decent leader would have done what Harold Wilson did in the 60s when Lyndon Johnson asked him to send British troops to Vietnam, and told him it wasn’t our war. But Blair swooned at the powerful whiff given off by a US President, fantasised about being Churchill to his Roosevelt, and willingly obliged.

After that it was hard to envisage Britain looking so pathetically subservient to Washington any time soon.

Until this week, when another plastic Winston, Boris Johnson, cowering under the weight of flattery, backed Donald Trump in his outrageous bullying attack on

Britain over criticism from an ambassador.

With Johnson weeks away from No10, the world will soon be grimacing again at the sight of Dick Dastardly and Muttley, hearing His Master’s Voice call his little pet to heel, and the pet obliging because we cannot endanger our special relationship.

When are we going to get real? The special relationship is the message on a cheesy Hallmark card US Presidents send before they stop off here en route to more serious business. It’s America telling us they’re the policeman of the world and we can help out at weekends as special constables if we do as they say.

It was a myth exposed by Barack Obama when he removed Churchill’s bust from the Oval Office before telling France that America had no truer ally.

In Trump’s case, it’s about letting us know we are fortunate to have a relationship with someone as special as him, and if we don’t grovel we’re history. He repeatedly undermined Theresa May, who naively offered him a full state visit, one he only accepted to take tea with his mum’s hero, the Queen, and get his children on the photos to further their careers.

As The Washington Post said this week: “The once ‘special relationship’

is in tatters, shredded by the fallout from Brexit and Trump’s determination to intervene in the politics of another country. If it improves, it likely will be on terms set by the President.”

In other words, our future relationship will revolve around Johnson leading a post-brexit Britain that is utterly subservient to Trump.

It means giving him all he wants, including access to the NHS in any trade deal, while we get the giblets from a chlorinated chicken as reward for helping to Make America Great Again.

Tragically, Johnson and fellow Trump-lovers such as Nigel Farage talk about Britain being on the cusp of taking back control and going on to greatness.

When the reality is that the prospect of insignificance has never loomed so large for this once-great country. Ever since the baking hot summer of ‘77 when a jobsworth marched me to the gate for taking off my shirt, I’ve loathed Wimbledon.

From Cliff Richard torturing a trapped audience, plastic Henmania and low-grade royalty, and minor daytime TV presenters getting the best seats, to the idea that you’re enjoying a bucket-list moment, standing in a queue for eight hours for the chance to see a dead rubber on an outside court, it’s one big cringefest. The snobbery was best summed up these past two years with their refusal to show England’s football teams in successive World Cup semi-finals on a screen outside the courts.

But I have to admit it was riveting watching 15-year-old prodigy Coco Gauff being asked to beat some of the world’s best players over three sets without becoming overwhelmed. To put that in perspective, I’ve got a 15-year-old daughter who gets overwhelmed when she’s asked to clean her teeth for longer than three seconds.

Respect.

This Tory leadership race, dragging on interminably when Parliament urgently needs to be working, is symbolic of a country falling apart due to cowardice and apathy. Looking at the quality of the debating between Johnson and Hunt on ITV on Tuesday, the only words I could think of were these: Thank Christ I don’t have to vote for either of them because it would be like putting my testicles on a butcher’s slab and telling him which one to chop off.

FOWL PLAY Trump and his pet Boris

ACING IT Coco on court