Trump Calling!

So Donald Trump phones the BBC.

Not summoned. Not questioned. He just rings up. Like your uncle after three pints, wanting to reminisce about when he almost single-handedly ended a war. And what does the BBC do? Do they press him? Do they expose the nonsense? Do they go in armed with facts, figures, and follow-ups? No. They lean in like it’s an old pal on the line.

The result was less of an interview, more of a voicemail with a byline. Gary O’Donoghue, who is normally a forensic operator with a superb ear for verbal sleight-of-hand, found himself trapped in a format designed to fail. Trump was driving. O’Donoghue was in the boot. This wasn’t a grilling. It was a soft launch.

Trump spouted the usual cocktail of vanity, vagueness, and veiled threats. He said he was “not done” with Putin, like some jilted Tinder date. Claimed he’d nearly done a peace deal four times, as though Ukraine was a business merger that fell through because the coffee was cold. Then – and here’s the really clever bit – he warned Putin that unless there’s a ceasefire in 50 days, there might be tariffs.

Fifty days. A 7-week bombing holiday for the Kremlin. A time-limited offer to flatten what’s left of Kyiv before Donny gets the sanctions crayons out. It’s not policy. It’s theatre. The kind where the audience dies and the actor wants an award.

And what of his weapons pledge? He’s not giving Ukraine anything. He’s outsourcing it through Europe, which is like saying you’re buying someone a pint and then sending them to the pub with their own wallet. But the BBC didn’t press him on that either. Because by the time the subject came up, Trump was already off talking about King Charles and how Canada ought to be flattered he even knows it exists.

Here’s the real issue. Trump’s mastery isn’t in policy or planning – it’s in flooding the zone. He spews so many contradictions in so short a time that unless you’re prepared to interrupt and pounce, it all just floats past in a puff of presidential noise. That’s why you don’t let him ring you. You sit him down and pin him to a chair with facts.

But the BBC didn’t want a showdown. They wanted a scoop. A Trump-shaped trophy on the mantelpiece of impartiality, to wave about next time someone accuses them of being too “woke”. And in doing so, they handed him a free propaganda slot.

No questions about why he gutted NATO credibility in his first term. No challenge to his record on sanctions, which is about as strong as wet cardboard. No mention of his soft spot for strongmen or his transactional view of global alliances. Instead, we got nodding noises. The kind people make when they’ve just been told something absurd but they’re too polite to say so.

Let’s not blame O’Donoghue. He’s done the hard jobs. This wasn’t his call – quite literally. This was editorial cowardice. The kind that dresses up access as journalism, and headlines as scrutiny. And while they fiddled with the tone, Ukraine burned.

We’ll be told this was a “rare insight”. It was nothing of the sort. It was Trump doing what Trump does best – monologue, muddy, move on. And the BBC just held the phone.