QUENTIN LETTS: Water has stopped lapping against the bows. Westminster is becalmed. Thanks to Trump no one knows what to think, what to say, whom to attack.
QUENTIN LETTS: Sir Keir initially looked terrified. Donald Trump, less chunky than of old but still a big unit, took possession of his small visitor with a six-second handshake.
Poor old Starmer was plainly dreading his trip to Washington to see Dr Strangelove and chums. He began PMQs by honking 'this afternoon, of course, I will travel to the US'.
The penny has dropped. Actually, make that 600billion pennies. Sir Keir Starmer came to the Commons before lunch to say he was chopping overseas aid almost in half.
There is no man better for flagornerie than the French president, Emmanuel Macron, who can make the most blatant exercise in sucking-up sound ornate and rather Louis Quatorze.
QUENTIN LETTS: When Putin launched his 'special military operation' three years ago, the Commons swelled with MPs proclaiming blood-brother support for Ukraine.
QUENTIN LETTS: Prime Minister's Questions again saw a short, earnest young woman fling herself against a wall of industrial noise, licking her teeth, shaking her braids.