Am I, or am I not, the only person who cannot get an intrusive, but very much welcome, image out of my head?
Imagine this ……
Donald Trump in situ in his beloved Whitehouse, courtesy of a wall built around his unshiftable personage; a wall that forms a tailor-made, iron-grid-capped, cylindrical installation, inclusive of barred window, enabling its permanently-installed resident to view the carnage going on around him.
Under the direction of the outgoing First Lady, Melania, the debt-recovery bailiffs are removing the defeated President’s goods and chattels. Melania is pointing out her husband’s most valuable assets to the bailiffs, whilst simultaneously instructing servicemen – donning ‘Move On Quick’ caps -to transport her own belongings elsewhere.
Occasionally, in a spirit of generosity, Melania pauses to look up at her pitiful husband’s tomato-red face, which is squished against the no-expenses-spared, soundproofed glass. She sees that he is mouthing off sweet nothings, undoubtedly obscene. Responsive to his needs, as always, Melania waves at her beloved.
Trump, in a novel state of heightened perceptiveness, sees that his wife has never looked happier!
Making the assumption that Trump is literate, even though she has never witnessed him read a book, or sign his own name on a document, Melania cannot resist one last dig at the prisoner. Much to his distress, she disappears out of sight, only to return but minutes later with a large bedsheet of questionable cleanliness. Donald instantly recognises it to be the one he believed to be discreetly stashed away in his precious chest of keepsakes – the one he made sweet grunts upon with a particularly-attractive lady, who was not, incidentally, his wife.
Trump watches and squints, with some confusion, as Melania exchanges conversation with a couple of rather-handsome-looking, and young (as in Melania’s age), ‘Move On Quick’ guys. One takes off immediately; Trump observes that, despite the heavy items the hunk’s been shifting, he is smiling – almost lustfully. Is this nerd trying to make a Move On Melania? Does he really think he can get one up on President Trump, by virtue of his fake biceps? As if!
Quick-Move guy makes a hasty return with a ladder, holding it firm as his Move-Quicker workmate – at the ready with hammer and nails – ascends up the rungs at high speed, marrying up sheet corner with expectant cornice. Move-Quicker descends in a jiffy and resituates the ladder, steadying it beneath adjacent cornice, as Quick-Move copies and repeats the action.
As the bedsheet unravels to display itself to the full, some large lettering becomes apparent; Melania has been busy with her lipstick.
Judging by the unusual pallor of Trump’s face, it seems probable that the President in situ does, against all the usual rules of probability, have the ability to read.
Within nanoseconds, Trump’s complexion resumes its usual, if a touch unnatural, shade of over-ripe beefsteak.
Melania’s message is, after all, thinks Trump, another piece of the many morsels of evidence in his favour; one more example of the usual fake news. President Elect, indeed!
STEAL THE PRESIDENCY, STEAL MY WIFE AND STEAL MY REAL ESTATE! ALLIES (BORIS?), GET ME OUT OF THESE FAKE WALLS!
The Silly-Savvy Salopian in Suffolk: read, believe and write ... 