Starmer’s Awkward Moment: Trump Publicly Sidelines the UK Prime Minister in Sharm El-Sheikh

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Monday marked a historic and emotional milestone — the long-awaited ceasefire in the Middle East after two years of devastating conflict.

The truce brought an end to the fighting between Israel and Hamas, a war that claimed thousands of innocent lives — and not a few who fought under the banner of the terror organization that has controlled Gaza for nearly two decades. It was, above all, a day of cautious relief: peace for the good, justice for the wicked, and, as it turned out, a touch of public humiliation for one rather nervous British prime minister.

That prime minister was Keir Starmer.

In a painfully awkward two-and-a-half-minute stretch, the UK’s soft-spoken, conflict-averse leader found himself squirming behind a podium in Sharm El-Sheikh, Egypt, as former President Donald Trump — presiding over a postwar summit — introduced attending leaders in alphabetical order. To Starmer’s evident discomfort, Trump made sure the United Kingdom came last.

Just as Starmer thought it was finally his turn to speak, Trump smoothly stepped back to the microphone and ensured he didn’t.

It wasn’t childish — it was deliberate.

The moment took place at a press conference following a high-level summit aimed, as The Wall Street Journal described it, at “spurring momentum for a broader postwar settlement.” The discussion centered on how to prevent Hamas from reentering Palestinian politics before any talk of a two-state solution could resume — a notion that, apparently, Starmer hadn’t quite grasped.

Only weeks earlier, Starmer had aligned himself with the pro-Palestinian bloc by officially recognizing Palestine as a state. “In the face of the growing horror in the Middle East, we are acting to keep alive the possibility of peace and a two-state solution,” he said at the time, according to the BBC. He insisted this was “not a reward for Hamas” and that the group would have “no future, no role in government, no role in security.”

But that defense rang hollow. Starmer had effectively extended recognition to a state half-controlled by Hamas — the very entity responsible for the bloodshed the world was trying to end. Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu cut through the diplomatic niceties, calling the move “a huge reward to terrorism.” And he wasn’t wrong: by undermining Western unity, Starmer risked sabotaging the fragile peace process just as it was taking shape.

Yet despite his misstep, Monday’s ceasefire went forward, sidelining both Hamas and those — like Starmer — who had unwittingly emboldened it. The agreement transferred Hamas’ remaining authority to an international governing body still under negotiation, leaving the British prime minister with little say in the process.

That reality was made abundantly clear onstage.

As Trump proceeded through the roster of world leaders, his every word carried purpose. Normally, leaders are introduced in order of diplomatic standing, but Trump’s alphabetical rollout carried unmistakable undertones. By the time he reached Iraq — joking that the country “has so much oil they don’t know what to do with it” — Starmer was visibly uncomfortable, fidgeting and glancing off to the side.

Italian Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni, meanwhile, was trying not to laugh. Trump turned to her next, calling her “beautiful,” then to Saudi Arabia — “He always gets the best seat. He deserves the best seat.”

Starmer, eyes downcast and expression tight, adjusted his face mask and brushed at his mouth, knowing full well what was happening. Meloni’s grin widened; everyone else did, too. Trump was treating Starmer like a restless child at an adults-only gathering — indulged just long enough to make sure he knew where he stood.

By the time the United Kingdom was finally acknowledged, it was clear who controlled the room.

Trump didn’t need to say much. The message had already been delivered — firmly, unmistakably, and with that signature flair that leaves his critics fuming and his supporters cheering.

And for Starmer, it was an indelible reminder: in global politics, deference doesn’t earn respect — and appeasement doesn’t earn a microphone.

Trump effectively boxed him out from the podium like a power forward shielding a point guard after a rebound — a fitting metaphor for just how much weight Starmer carried in that moment.

And, to remove any lingering doubt, Trump followed up moments later with his trademark mix of humor and candor: “The leaders here are friends of mine — great people,” he said. “I have a couple I don’t like in particular, but I won’t tell you who. Actually, there are a few I don’t like at all — but you’ll never find out who they are. Ah, maybe you will.”

Yeah, “maybe.” It’s at moments like this one wishes The Associated Press Stylebook — which The Western Journal generally follows, minus its more “woke” revisions — permitted the use of laugh emojis in formal prose, because about twenty of them would fit perfectly right here.

This sort of public embarrassment couldn’t have beenfall a more deserving figure on a more fitting day. Barely a month after recognizing a violent, imaginary nation-state — a geopolitical Narnia conjured to appease Labour’s fragile coalition of far-left ideologues and Muslim voters — Keir Starmer finds himself outplayed and irrelevant. He gambled that peace would remain elusive, that the war would grind on indefinitely. Instead, peace came — and Starmer, having bet on the wrong side, now sits at the bargaining table in title only. Brilliant strategy, Sir Keir.

The prime minister struck a silent pact with terror — and terror surrendered. Perhaps he should’ve waited before sipping quite so deeply from the poison chalice, because when the real negotiations began, the adults didn’t leave him a seat.

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