The nuclear deal with Iran sounded terrible from the start. But then, against all odds, it just kept getting worse. As if it wasn’t bad enough that Obama and Kerry were willing to pay Iran $150 billion in exchange for merely signing the agreement, it has now come to light that in one of the side arrangements, we have agreed to allow Iran to monitor itself.

I’m old enough to remember the scandal in 1976 when a large number of cadets at West Point were discovered to be cheating on tests. And unlike the Ayatollah and his cronies both in Tehran and Washington, D.C., West Pointers tend to be men of honor.

But apparently, like George W. Bush, who famously gazed into the eyes of the former KGB butcher, Vladimir Putin, and claimed to see his very soul — an object that Putin had long ago signed over to Satan — Obama sees something nobody else sees who looks into the reptilian eyes of the Ayatollah Khamenei.

Meanwhile, the director of the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA), Yukiya Amano, assures us that the agreement doesn’t really mean what it says. Amano is the sort of bureaucratic scuzball who has spent his life in the shadowy world of diplomacy.

Like others of his ilk, he winds up working in a fancy building with a high-flown title, a generous salary and an even larger expense account. His chief responsibility is to get along with some of the most evil creatures on the face of the earth. So if the Ayatollah says we can trust him to honestly report on Iran’s nuclear development, to take photos and test soil samples, Amano is quite prepared to believe him without even asking himself why we wasted years negotiating the matter since, obviously, the Ayatollah would have snitched on himself if he had been up to any sort of skullduggery.

If I had any say in the matter, diplomats would never gather in countries like Switzerland and Luxembourg, the kind of places boasting feather beds, four-star restaurants and steam heat. That, after all, is the reason you have boneheads like Kerry and Amano signing up for these gigs. Have you ever seen the creeps arrive or depart from these get-togethers? You’ve never seen so many limousines in your life. Frankly, I won’t take any of them seriously until I see them riding burros and camels and gathering in hellish locations like Mongolia in December or Fresno in July.

As if those rotters aren’t bad enough, you have a Senate filled with Democrats who were quite willing to abandon Obama over his stupid trade deal, but are lining up to kiss his ring when it comes to this nuclear deal, which not only places Israel and our Gulf allies in immediate threat of extinction, but has already seen Russia providing the Ayatollah with missiles and defense systems they could use against us.

One has to wonder about Jewish senators in particular, people like Dianne Feinstein, Al Franken and Barbara Boxer, who have already announced they’ll vote in favor of the worst deal since the Boston Red Sox sent Babe Ruth to the Yankees. The question is whether they are truly deranged or merely worried they won’t be invited to the Obamas’ Passover seder.

I was hoping that Hillary Clinton might seize the opportunity to put a little daylight between herself and Obama, thus providing the Senate Democrats with some cover. But Hillary is still hoping that Obama won’t sic the Justice Department on her in order to hand the nomination over to the man who’s had his lips faithfully glued to the presidential rump for the past seven years, Joe (“Just bidin’ my time”) Biden.

My friend, Ron Kessler, who probably knows more about the Secret Service than its director, Joseph Clancy, reports that being assigned to Mrs. Clinton’s detail is generally regarded as a form of punishment. The agents may have taken an oath to take a bullet for her, but that doesn’t mean she has to like them. Apparently, she is given to screaming obscenities at the agents if they so much as say “Good morning” to her, letting them know in no uncertain terms that it’s bad enough she has to see them without also having to hear them.

What’s more, Hillary’s top aide Huma Abedin, 39, is equally obnoxious. She has confronted agents who insisted on checking her I.D. by channeling her inner Reese Witherspoon and rebuking them with “Don’t you know who I am?!” and insisting that they act as bell boys and tote her luggage.

So far there’s no record of an agent replying, “Of course I know who you are. You’re the wife of Anthony Weiner, a congressman who had to resign in disgrace, and Hillary Clinton’s main squeeze.”

Officially, Ms. Abedin is Hillary Clinton’s personal assistant. But in political circles, the job, itself, whether held by a man or a woman, is called something else. It just so happens that because of their unique relationship, it sounds like a double entendre to refer to Huma Abedin as Hillary’s “body woman.”