When president Trump announced to Congress that America is engaged in hostilities with Iran, he wasn't starting a new war. He was registering the start of a legal clock. Under the American Constitution, the president has 60 days to use military authorities without a green light from Congress. Day 60 - is today, May 1.

The Senate yesterday rejected, for the sixth time, the Democratic resolution to limit these authorities. The result: 47 in favour, 50 against. A margin tighter than a parking space. But enough for Trump to keep going.

A high-positioned White House official insists there has been a ceasefire since April 8 and that there are no longer firefights between American and Iranian forces. If that's true, why have six votes in the Senate? Because a ceasefire is a quiet phase, not a peace settlement. And in the legal world, only the president can decide whether the 60 days will extend by another 30 - "as long as a military need exists".

The military logic is one thing. The Balkan logic is another. We know here how presidential clocks end. In 1999, a few hours after the "negotiating" deadlines in Rambouillet expired, the strikes on Belgrade began. The clock isn't for counting days. The clock is the instrument for legitimising what was going to happen anyway.

Iran, with general Ahmad Vahidi as the new commander of the Revolutionary Guard, shows no signs of backing off. Instead, Tehran has announced that Hormuz remains an Iranian "zone of decisions". In such an environment, "ceasefire" sounds like a deal to smoke a cigarette before the gunfire continues.

For the Balkan economies, the problem isn't political. It's the price of oil, the price of gas and the food chain that ends in our supermarkets. When Hormuz becomes cut off for a few hours, it doesn't matter whether the Senate in Washington voted 47 or 50. What matters is how much we pay for diesel on Monday.