So, Trump’s been on the blower with Putin for two bleedin’ hours, right? Goes on Truth Social after, boasting of great progress. But let’s be honest, mate, if that chat had any real substance, I’m the Queen of England.

 

He’s now sayin’ that any deal to end the war’s gotta be between Ukraine and Russia, like he’s just the bloke passin’ the ball. Funny, innit? Just days ago, he was bangin’ on about how he needed to sit down with Putin to sort things out. Now he’s takin’ a backseat, actin’ like he’s not the one who’s been center stage all this time.

 

Meanwhile, Putin’s playin’ hardball, still refusin’ to agree to a 30-day ceasefire and still demandin’ Ukraine give up territory and stay outta NATO. Zelensky’s not havin’ it, never was, obviously, and European leaders are lookin’ on, scratchin’ their gobs, wonderin’ what Trump’s actually bringin’ to the table. 

 

So, after all the fanfare, what’s changed? Nowt. Trump’s big, beautiful phone call turned out to be all mouth and no trousers. No breakthroughs, no real plans, just the same old song and dance. And while he’s busy patting himself on the back, the rest of us lot are left wonderin’ if he’s actually got a clue what he’s doin’. The Art of the Nothing Burger. 

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