MacTrump and his better half are back in their private suite cum playroom. The President’s face is glowing; it’s now scalded umber.

MacTrump: Now Melanie, you’re the First Lady but you Cannot go against me in Front of the Guys.

Generalia Melania: How long have ve been married, huh? And you still get my name wrong! (she aims a swipe at his head)

MacTrump: Don’t you touch the Hair!

Melania feigns a swipe with her right hand and brings her left over and unravels the Hairdo.

MacTrump: You Slovenly Ska…

Melania: Don’t you dare!

MacTrump: Why can’t You be More like Nancy Reagan, eh?

Melania: Who? Iz one of your floozies?

MacTrump (slapping his forehead): Come back, Ivanka.

Melania: You want divorce. Great. I keep Barron.

MacTrump: Over my Dead Body! Or yours!

Melania: Ze vorld knows about Stormy Danielz but vhat about ze rest, huh? And ze Moscow business.

MacTrump: You wouldn’t dare.

Melania: Try me, fatso burnt face.

MacTrump: You Speak good American when you want to.

Melania: Vhat about my countrypeople? Vhy you don’t help the Ukrainians more anyway? You’re scared of Vlad ze Pudding?

The phone rings and the Prez answers.

MacTrump: Sat Whaaat? Ok, I’m on My Way.

Melania: Vhat?

MacTrump: Its happened. The Slovenlians have been Attacked.

Meanwhile in Moscow…

Vladimir Pudding is walking along the corridor his office, his left arm swinging like a soldier’s and his right rooted to his hip like an Irish dancer. He looks at the handsome sentry as he passes. He thinks to himself: Mmm, he’s new and very yummy.

Sergei Lapdog has to give the bad news to his Tsar of All the Russias.

Lapdog thinks: He’s going to be really pissed off. He’ll give me that death stare.

Pudding: So, Sergei, tell me. I can see from your jowels that it’s not good.

Lapdog: The Slovenians are now involved in the fighting.

Pudding: So? They’re in the Ukraine so the Charter doesn’t count. MacTrump won’t do anything.

Lapdog: But the rest of the NATO countries?

Pudding: They will dither and make noises, that’s all.

Ursula von der Leynenyourpockets calls Sir Ikea Stammerer.

Ursula: Sir Ikea, how are things in London?

Stammerer: Hi, Ursa Major. Just dandy. One of my ministers accepts some freebie concert tickets and people want me guillotined.

Ursula: Concert tickets? Hah! Their banks are laundering cartel money and they bitch about free tickets.

Stammerer: What can you do? What the hell is…err… Slovenia doing?

Ursula (with the sound of Tusk and Orbandemocracy grunting and grappling): You’ve forgotten the PM’s name, haven’t you?

Stammerer: What is it then?

Ursula: Never mind that. Hostilities have broken out here in Brussels too.

Stammerer: What? Roister Doister Boris isn’t there, is he?

Ursula: No, but speaking of Boris, in a way; how would you like to rejoin the EU? I think the time is ripe.

Stammerer: Erm, what or who is that making all the grunting noises? Put us on group chat.

Orbandemocracy tries to slam dunk Tusk onto the conference table but the tricky Tusk sidesteps him and lands a knockout blow to the side of the Magyar’s head.

Ursula: I don’t think we can count on Poland and Hungary being allies anymore.

Stammerer: What? Errm…the EU? Yeah, of course I’d like to rejoin; you know that. But I said that we wouldn’t.

Ursula: But the polls say that the majority of Brits want back in.

Stammerer: Yeah, but partially, completely…y’know, it’s complicated.

MarcoNapoleon (who is listening in): Ah you rosbifs! It is not complicated. Show zem your ballz, Sir Crimea. You want in. We want you back. Let’s do zis.

Stammerer: Do you watch the news? You know, the far-riot rights…I mean, the far-right rights…the far-right riots…

MarcoNapoleon: Ze faht-raght riortz?

Tusk: No, the far-riot ri…hold on…the fat riot…I can’t say it…the flat-right…

Ursula (giggling like a schoolgirl): The fat-white wankers…

Victor Orbandemocrary (coming round): You calling me a fat, vhite vanker?

Stammerer: Jesus! Enough already! How do I sell it to the you-know whats? They’d set me adrift in the Channel in a rubber dinghy

Tusk: Surkarea, just promise Nigel Fararse… a cabinet post, a knighthood, a shitload of cash and get shot of your illegals…

Friedrich ‘Merc’ Merz: Send them to El Salvador.

Stammerer: I can’t do that.

Victor Orbantheopposition: Zend de fatty rotters to me. De righter, de better.

Stammerer (thinking): They’re all fuckin’ bonkers.

MarcoNapoleon: Tell your proles zat it’s for zeir protection. Against Vladimir Pudding and MacTrump an’ ‘iz tareeffs. Tell ‘em any ol’ bolleaux. Zat is what I do.

Ursula (thinking): God, I wanna shag him so badly…

Mark ‘MTV’ Rutte enters and announces: Well, the schit hash really hit the fan…the Shlovenian forces have been attacked.

Steve ‘Kickback’ Witkoff: We cannot send troops into the Ukraine, Mr. President.

MacTrump: Oh, You’re here too, Steve.

Witkoff: Pudding is our friend. He’s a great guy. I’m a member of his fan club. He’s so ruggedly handsome. I’ve got that photo of him barechested on a horse on the wall of my den. (singing) I wanna kiss him all over…and over again…I wanna kiss him…

MacTrump: Yeah, We get the Picture, Steve.

Miller: No way, Mister Prez. It’ll be bad for business. And for your friends in New York.

MacTrump (murmuring): I know, but You heard Melanie.

Miller: You deny everything, as usual. Say it’s all fake. No-one will care.

Squarejaw: Hell, the Ruskis are the enemy, Commander. We gotta fight ‘em sooner or later. Why not sooner now that them Yoocraneans have weakened ‘em.

Witkoff: Trump Tower in Moscow, Mr. President.

Miller: The Nobel Peace Prize, Mr. President.

Nukeome: Worrld Warr Thu-ree, Mr. Prezide-ent.

Rubio: The Yalta-a-Lago Project, Mr. President.

Hegseth: Can I pop out to use the bathroom, Supreme Leader?

‘Ironclad’ Harriman III: Gotcha hipflask, Mr. Defence Secretary?

JD ‘Maybeline’ Fancy Vancy: Mr. President, we should stay outta it. We should stay outta everythin’ and everywhere. Announce that the US of A is leaving NATO raght nah. That’ll put tha fox intah the hen house. Show them Yooropeans that we ain’t gonna bale ‘em out no more. Where’s mah bango?

Hegseth: Goddamed right! They’re pathetic! I just need to go to the bathroom, please sir.

Squarejaw McGraw: Ah hell! Yer bunch of yellow bellies. Ah’m gonna resign my commission and join the Ukrainian Foreign Legion.

Generalia Melania: And I am going wiz you, General Squvarejaw. I vill fight wiz my patriots…and I vill take Barron wiz me.

MacTrump: Say what?!

Meanwhile in Moscow…

Vladimir Pudding: Are they serious? We could swat the Slovenians like flies. My buddy MacTrump won’t go for it.

Sergei Lapdog: He may be dumber than ditchwater but even MacTrump wouldn’t be stupid enough to spark a war.

General Getyakitov: (saying) We should be prepared, O Exalted Comrade Commander Pudding (while thinking, Please don’t have me thrown out of my apartment window).

Lapdog: Just remind MacTrump of that video we have of him with the call girls.

Meanwhile in London…

Sir Ikea Stammerer: This is mega! Go on, Mel; you give it to your hubbie.

John Healey: As Defence Minister, I must urge caution, PM.

Stammerer: Why? This could be the answer to our prayers.

John Healey: Not if the USA leaves NATO.

Admiral Sir Tony Rakeitin (shouting and thumping the table): You heard what they said. They think we’re a bunch of pussies and they want us to pay for their help.

General Sir Rupert Farquar-Stiff-Upper-Lip: Why don’t we get 007 to take MacTrump out?

Stammerer: What? You know that 007 is a fictional character, Sir Rupert.

Sir Rupert: Is he?

Healey: JD would take over anyway and he hates us more than anyone.

Sir Rupert: Take him out too.

Meanwhile in Brussels…

Ursula von der Leynenyourpocket: So, you all heard that. What do we do?

Cool Prez MacroNapoleon: Why do you sink zat France left the NATO command structure in 1966?

General Mark ‘MTV’ Rutte: If the Slovenian forces are attacked, then we must sit on the fence.

Javier Bettel: The Luxembourger army will fight!

MacroNapoleon: Sank you, Javier, but you know, 300 soldiers won’t really ‘elp much.

Victor Orbandemocracy: My forces will fight! For Mother Russia!

Donald ‘Poniatowski’ Tusk: Why is Hungary even in NATO? You’re the enemy.

Orbandemocracy: Ukraine is the enemy, we must attack Slovenia.

Mark Carney: Now, gentlemen, please. Let’s…

Tusk aims a punch at Orbandemocracy, who blocks the swing and the two start grappling. The Hungarian PM is one tough cookie but Tusk uses his Aikido skills and hurls his opponent into the corner of the room.

Rutte throws his arms up in despair: NATO SCHMATO.

General Squarejaw McGraw: Supreme Commander; we’re glad you’re here.

General John ‘The Land of Cotton’ Nukeome (under his breath): Y’all speak fer yoursel’.

MacTrump: This’d better be Serious, Squarejaw. I was About to be Interviewed by Laura and you Know how it Always has a Happy Ending.

Generalia Melania Trumpette (Uniforms Division): Ah, Prezzie Hubby. You look wery…burnt.

MacTrump: Melankia, my Raisin Debtor. What are You doing…?

Squarejaw: The First M’Lady could be useful in this discussion, O Mighty Slayer of Infidels.

Pete Hegseth (with the 11am shakes): I told Him already. About Slovenia.

Generalia Melania: My countree! My beloved homeland.

MacTrump: Sure, that’s right…Slovle…Slovenly…don’t tell me…Slovelania. Are We going to Annex it?

General Nukeome: They’re in the Ukraine, Commander.

MacTrump looked around for help.

Squarejaw: The Slovenians.

MacTrump looked around for help again.

Generalia Melania: Oh, for heawen’s sake, hubbee. Slovenia, my home countree has sent zeir trops to Ukranya.

MacTrump: And that’s a Bad Thing, I guess.

Admiral Hitchcock H. ‘Ironclad’ Harriman III: This here sityuashun cud git outta hay-and prutty damned quickly.

MacTrump looked around for help yet again.

Squarejaw: Slovenia is a member of NATO, Commander.

MacTrump: Ah now I Getcha…

Pete Hegseth: But the Slovenian forces are in the Ukraine, O Supremo, and that is not NATO territory.

Squarejaw: But if them Ruskis attack the Slovs, then we need to step up, siiir.

MacTrump: Do we? Y’know, our Boys over there in Europe…Nylons, unwanted Babies… It could get Nasty. Pudding won’t Like it one Little bit.

Squarejaw: But we’re the Yunided States of Amuurrica, siir. Charlie don’t surf!

MacTrump (to Stephen ‘Nosferatu’ Miller, who had wafted, silently, into the War Room): We’ve got Navy Seal Surfers?

‘Land of Cotton’ Nukeome: Aall doo respect, Square, them Russians ain’t no pushoever.

Generalia Melania: Now, now, ghentlemen, zeir is no discussion here. Ve must help my cuntreefolkpeople. Ve must! Right, Presidonnie?

Miller: Supreme Commander, Headless is right. It only applies if NATO forces are attacked in NATO countries.

Melania looking daggers at Miller. They drew back their lips and hissed at each other, What We Do in the Shadows-style.

Marco ´Polo´Rubio: The Russians aren’t as strong as Putin makes out, Mr President.

MacTrump (to Rubio): Oh Marco, I hadn’t Noticed you were Here.

Squarejaw: Hell n’ dagnabbit! I wanna kill me some Ruskis!

Generalia Melania (standing face to face with her husband and says in a viper hiss): Zo, my chunky hubby, vot vill you do?

MacTrump: I Can’t start World War 3, my Buttercup. They won’t give Me the Nobel Peace Prize if I do That.

She leans forward and whispers in MacTrump’s ear: You remember zat I ‘ave the recordings of zose naughty tigs zat you did.

MacTrump blushes, although it isn’t noticeable with his burnt umbra face: Put our Troops on Alert, General Squarejaw.

President MacTrump is in make-up, being prepared for his 4,208th interview on Fox News. Laura ‘Torture Voice’ Ingraham pops her head around the door.

Ingraham (trying to channel Marilyn Monroe but sounding like a goat being throttled): Happy interview, Mister Preside-e-nt, happy interview to you.

MacTrump: Hey Laura. You got my List of Questions?

Ingraham: Sure thing, Do-o-nnie.

MacTrump: Yeah…when the Make-up girl gets Back from the shitter, call me Mister President…or Lord Trump if You like.

Ingraham: Oh yeah, fo-o–r su-u-re…Mister Magnificent Man.

MacTrump: Have you Noticed my new Color? I’ve dropped the Orange glow and Now I’m going for Burnt Umbra.

Ingraham: It’s amazing. It’s really…burnt.

Pete ‘Happy Hours Begins at 10am’ Hegseth enters, sees Laura and slitters through gritted teeth: Oh, hi Laura.

Ingraham scrowels: Hey, Peter

Hegseth: Mr. President, you must come to the Romper…I mean the War Room immediately. We have a situation.

MacTrump: We Always have a Situation, Pete. How can It be More Important than my Interview?

Hegseth: It’s the Ukraine. Something’s happened.

MacTrump: Zelensky’s wearing a Suit? Women’s clothes?

Hegseth (agitated): Slovenia has sent troops to the Ukraine.

MacTrump: Slovenia? I’ve Heard that Somewhere before.

Ingraham: Don…Mr. President. It’s where your wife comes from.

MacTrump: Oh. Which One?

Hegseth is hopping from one foot to another like a little boy who needs to pee.

Ingraham: The one you’re married to now. Melania.

MacTrump: Oh yeah. Well, Pete, Is that bad? With, urm… Slovelania?

Hegseth: You need to come to the War Room right now, Supreme Commander. Squarejaw McGraw and the gang are all there.

MacTrump looks at himself in the mirror; he smiles and blows himself a kiss: To the Batcave, Pete.

Baron Guy (all rather luvvy darling): Well, hello there. How are we all today?

Pudding and Lapdog rise to their feet and murmur in unison: My liege.

MacTrump looks nonplussed and whispers to Miller: Should I get…

Miller has already risen and hisses at MacTrump to do the same. The US entourage follow suit.

Baron Guy: Dear Vlad, how’s the new mega-dacha coming along; nearly finished?

Pudding: Yes, my liege…nearly finished.

Baron Guy: You do remember about the vig, don’t you, my boy?

Pudding: Oh yes, of course, Baron. I am so sorry for the delay…

MacTrump to Miller: Which Roth is this?

Miller (murmurring): That’s…God. He’ll have the final say on Gaza.

Baron Guy: Ok, my little chickadees. We were hoping that all this would have been settled by now. We’d dearly like to get back to normal business.

Pudding: Well, Baron, we have tried but…

Baron Guy: Well try harder. Make concessions. Make a deal.

MacTrump: That’s what I Keep saying, Mister Baron.

Pudding: It’s Zelensky. He’s being a hardhead.

Baron Guy: He’s one of the tribe. It’s in his blood.

Netan@yahoo: We could sweeten the deal with some beachfront property in Gaza and his own show on Israeli TV.

At that moment, JD ‘Maybeline’ Vance enters the room and announces: Y’all talkin about that ungrateful SOB Zelensky? Ah sure stuck it to him just like ah did to them Yooropeans.

Baron Guy: Ah, Mister Maybeline.

Netan@yahoo: JD, shush. Now, gentlemen, as the Baron says, we need to see an end to this conflict.

Rubio (holding up his hand sheepishly): If I may…errm, how exactly do we end it?

Netan@yahoo: Do what we did in Gaza; create a false flag operation.

MacTrump (to Rubio): We make up a flag?

Hegseth (his hands visibly shaking): You mean the Hamas attack was…well, planned?

The Baron and Netan@yahoo smile patronisingly.

Netan@yahoo: Oh Peter, do you honestly think that we didn’t know what was happening with Hamas? We planned and coordinated it all. We know what’s going on all the time. Everywhere. Come on, you guys have been at it since whenever…pretty poorly, I must say. I mean, WTC 7? For heaven’s sake.

Pudding and Lapdog chuckle.

Rubio: If I may, what are the plans for a Palestinian homeland?

There is a monent’s silence in the room before the Baron and Netan@yahoo burst into howls of laughter. The rest follow.

MacTrump (hissing): You Idiot. You’re Fired. Mike?

Mike ‘Last’ Waltz: Yes, Mister President.

MactTrump: You’re my New…err…whatever Rubio was Before.

Baron Guy: Ok then, Donnie, you and Vlad come with me. The rest stay here.

The others look at each other like naughty schoolboys and Pete Hegseth holds up a hand.

Pete: May I go to the bathroom please?

Baron Guy (putting an arm around MacTrump’s shoulder): Now, about these tariffs…

JD ‘Maybeline’ Fancy Vancy: It’s great to be back in Munich yet again. I lurve Munich; my wife and I lurve Munich; I lurve the people so much; we lurve the Munichia…Munchin…Munchkin people so much. I know I shook y’all up last time when I said that you were all a bunch of commie, baby-murdering Nazis an’ I have returned to tell y’all that, where ah’m from, you’d be all strung up from a tree bah now…

Ursula von der Leynenyourpocket: It’s this wanker again. Why is he here again and why the hell is he wearing more make-up than me?

Cool Prez MacroNapoleon: And to sink zat ma country helped zem get zer independonce from ze Rosbiffs.

Fancy Vancy: …that Supreme President MacTrump is the Leader of the Free Universe and he will make y’all free, free from the tyranny of woke, wishy-washy, anti-God, anti-guns, Bible-denying, transgender abortion clinics…

NATO Secretary General Mark ‘MTV’ Rutte: He’sch the VIP with backwoodsch zip. I liked that seriesch with that hot Julia Louis-Dreyfusch…”Did the president call?” The president never callsch, eh?

Cool Prez MacroNapoleon’s waxwork wife: Dreyfus? The Vice-Presidon iz francais? Ey, Ursula, is my wig on straight? It iz not willy wonky?

Ursula von der Leynenyourpocket: Is Timothée Chamelet here? I want to jump on his Bobby Dylan bones.

Fancy Vancy: …you need to hand back the elecshun to the Rumanian Fascist Party raght nah. Yer cain’t challenge an elecshun; we don’t do tha’ sort o’ thang in a Deemocracy like the Yoonited States of Amurrica…

Meanwhile, in Sordid Arabia, MacTrump and his delegation are taking their places at the Long Table, flown in from Moscow by President Vladimir Pudding for the Negotiations to Right Royally Shaft the Ukraine. The President of all the Russias was still in the green room, psyching himself up for the difficult task ahead – trying not to laugh at MacTrump’s ludicrously inept and ignorant comments.

Sergei Lapdog, the Russian Foreign Tyrants and Pirates Minister, shakes his jowels, as only he can shake ‘em. He comes to the door of the green room and hears the resounding tones of his leader. He pushes one jowel aside and he hooks a King Lear up to the door.

Vladimir Pudding, is reciting Shakespeare, quoting Prospero in The Tempest: Thou poisonous snake, got by the Devil himself. Upon thy wicked dam, come forth!

Pudding: I can hear your jowels wobbing around, Lapdog. Stop listening at the door and come in.

Lapdog: They’re here, Tsarovitch Pudding

Pudding: Who is with the Orange-uman?

Lapdog: Marco Plonko, Bloodbank Miller, Pete Headless and some other guys.

Putin: It’s 10am already. Pete Headless will have the shakes. You go and warm up the crowd first and I’ll make my grand entrance in a few minutes.

Sergei Lapdog rolls his eyes and wobbles his jowels: Whatever you say, Tsarovitch.

Lapdog takes his seat at the Long Table: President Pudding will be with us in a few minutes, gentlemen. Did you have a good flight?

Pete ‘Happy Hour Begins at 10am’ Hegseth: Now, listen up, Lapdog. I’m here to tell you that President MacTrump is the Best Negotiator in the History of Our Country. That’s what we call him; ‘The Negotiator’ After an intensive 10-second deliberation with The Greatest President in the History of Our Country, we are willing to let Putin keep all the land you guys occupy. Plus, we’ll throw in a trial for Zelensky for something or other and that unless the NATO countries spend 50% of their GDP on defence, which they’ll never do, we’ll get rid of it. Lastly, Ukraine will pay all your costs of the war…oh yeah, and you can keep all those thousands of kids you kidnapped. I’m warning you now, if you don’t accept these terms, we’ll have no option but to cancel the Yalta-a-Lago Project.

Lapdog: We did not kidnap any kids. They volunteered to be relocated.

MacTrump (to Rubio): Who is this Zelensky guy? Is he an ice hockey player?

Marco ‘Polo’ Rubio: He’s the president of the Ukraine.

MacTrump: Shouldn’t he be here?

Stephen ‘Nosferatu’ Miller: His presence is not required, Mr. President. Not now, not ever.

MacTrump: That’s great, really great, Stephen. Should I be here?

Miller: Oh yes. Tee-off time with Steve is not ‘til eleven, so you’ve got an hour.

MacTrump: Jeez, 50 minutes more of this? I’m playing golf with you?

Miller: No, the other Steve…Witkoff.

Mike ‘Last’ Waltz: We want payback. It’s payback tahme. We get all tha mineral and rare metal rahghts in the Ukraine fer ever and ever amen…payback, you hear what ah’m sayin’? We need all this so we can beat up on them chinkies. (to MacTrump): Mister President, can ah go an’ shoot somethin’? Ah like ta shoot somethin’ before lunch.

Lapdog: Indeed. And you are? (jowelisticulating at Steve ‘Wicked’ Witkoff)

Witkoff: We met before. I am overseeing the land gra…land purchases in Ga…the Middle East. I am Special Envoy to…

Lapdog: We play golf later, ok. Maybe a little real estate deal.

Pete glanced anxiously at his watch. It was 10.10am and he was getting the itch.

Lapdog: You drive a hard bargain, Pieter. These terms are wery tough. I will put them to the Boss. Are you feeling okay? You look a leettle peeky.

MacTrump (to Rubio): Is Springsteen here? Where’s Vlad the Inhaler?

Rubio (whispering): The Impaler, Mr. President.

MacTrump: Impaler; isn’t that a Car? I though We called Him Vlad the Inhaler coz he had Asthma.

Rubio: Err, no…it’s…never mind…

Vlad marches, in his wonky-armed robotic way, into the room and plonks himself at the head of the Long Table, a good 10 feet away from anyone else.

MacTrump: Hey, Prezzie Pudding! How’s it Going?

Pudding: Wery well, Donnie. I think our business is nearly concluded here. I just have one small request to make.

MacTrump: Fire away, Pudding.

Pudding: I really think it was better when there were two Germanys.

MacTrump: Me too. I liked watching those East German Women athletes. Big girls. Hell, Europe is Screwed. We only Tolerated Germany because of their Cars, but Elon is changing That. The Brits are Okay; y’know, the Royals and the Golf courses. The Rest ain’t worth a Damn. So, are We all Done? Those Links are calling me.

Benji Netan@yahoo enters with Baron Guy de Montrillionaire de Rothschild and the room falls silent.

Generalia Melania ‘Za-Za’ Trumpette is catwalking along the corridor that leads to her hubby’s inner sanctum; a mock-up of a MacDonalds restaurant with plastic climbing frames and a large cabinet with all the Happy Meals toys. She opens the door and enters…

MacTrump spins round with a guilty expression on his Hey Mr. Tangerine Man face and Benji Netan@yahoo looks up with an equally ‘hand caught in the cookie jar’ face.

Generalia Melania: Vot are you two doing?

MacTrump: Nothing, Nothing, we were doing Nothing, Melanie. Nobody has ever been doing Nothing more in the History of Our Country.

Netan@yahoo (his tie off kilter and his shirt hanging out): Absolutely nothing. Anything more is a malicious lie spread by the enemies of Zion.

Melania (seeming to grow in stature and her hands balling into fists): MY NAME IS MELANIA!!! (the seering, banshee-like wail melted some of the plastic climbing frame and its force lifted up MacTrump’s already dishevelled hair).

MacTrump: Sorry, my Sweet. We were Going over some…err…

Netan@yahoo: Plans, Mr. President (patting MacTrump’s hair back in place).

MacTrump: We’re making Plans for Zaza…I mean, Gaza.

Melania: Vell, it looked like you two vere getting it on.

Netan@yahoo (looking adoringly at MacTrump): That’s a malicious, antisemitic lie.

MacTrump: Absolutely. I’ve never Gotten it on in my Entire life.

Netan@yahoo: It’s unbiblical. Ungodly. Abhorrent.

MacTrump: Yeah, that’s right…unblibble…unblicibal…what he said. We Believe in the Bible. We’re…what are we, Benji?

Netan@yahoo: I’m chosen of God and you’re chosen of us.

Melania: Enough ov dis! Haf you bought Slovenia yet, laak I told yoo?

MacTrump: Stephen is on it. It’s Gonna be Great. Vladimir is on board with it.

Melania: Vell, jus do it…and enough of zat…vot you say…condoodling vith Benji.

MacTrump (thrusting his arm in the air as if at school): Ooh, I know, I know. It’s ‘Canoodling’. There (nudging Netan@yahoo), I got that one. Melani..i..ya, don’t say Anything about This to Elon. Y’know how Jealous he gets. He might not Give me my Allowance.

Melania hurrumphs and exits the mock MacDonalds.

Netan@yahoo: Look Don, we’ve got to get some things sorted out here. This is really important.

MacTrump nodded while looking longingly at the menu and dribbling a little.

Netan@yahoo: This is our 9/11; you know that, don’t you?

MacTrump: Err, yeah sure. What…err…what do you mean, Benji?

Netan@yahoo: C’mon Don, keep up. No-one can find out that we planned and set up October 7th.

MacTrump: ‘We’? I didn’t Plan anything, Benji. I Never do.

Netan@yahoo (slapping his forehead: I didn’t mean we, you and me. I meant me n’ the Roths. But all this talk about taking over Gaza, you know? People can put 2 and 2 together.

MacTrump looks sternly into space as tries to do the sum in his head.

Netan@yahoo: We’d get lynched if it ever came out. Not you. You’d get off scott free, as always

MacTrump: Scott Free…isn’t he Mr. Miracle?

Stephen ‘Nosferatu’ Miller floats into the MacDonalds.

MacTrump thinks: Did he actually open the door?

MacTrump says: Hey, Stevie Miller Band. We Gotta get these Palestinians outta Gaza. How do We do it?

Miller: How about we get RFK Jr. to run an innoculation program?

MacTrump: Genius! COVID the hell outta them. I’m glad I Thought of that. Get RFK now. Hey, what’s the ‘R’ for when his Name is Bobby?

Prez Donald Big MacTrump is in the Romper Room with his cohort of LALs (lackeys, advisors and lickasses). He’s in an exuberant, bullish mood, ready to take on the world and the back 9 of St. Andrews in January.

MacTrump: Hey, Marco!

Everyone: Polo!

MacTrump: Very funny. Marco, you’re Secretary of…err, Foreign something or other…

Marco ‘Polo’ Rubio: Of State, your…err, Trumpiness.

MacTrump: Tell that Woman in Mexico…whazzername? Cloudy Shinybum? Tell her that We’re gonna put…what Shall we say…25 or 50% on all Goods coming up from Her itty-bitty Country. Or what about 100%? I like a Hundred; it sounds like me. The best.

Rubio: You did say 25% before, Mr. President.

Pete ‘Happy Hour Starts at 10am’ Hegseth: Hell, show ‘em who’s boss, Commander-in-Chief. Let’s kick some ass. Go for the jugular.

MacTrump: What do You think, Stephen?

Stephen ‘Nosferatu’ Miller: Did someone say ‘jugular’? That’s music to my ears. Yes, Annointed One; let the blood flow, go tariffs go.

MacTrump: That’s very Poetic..al, Stephen. Hey, have You had your Teeth filed Down again?

Miller: Oh you noticed, Supreme Leader. I’m touched.

MacTrump: Ok,100% and be Damned. Don’t fight Me Uphill Boys.

Elon Skum: Hey Donnie, remember that I’m building a Tesla factory in Monterrey.

MacTrump: Are you moving back to California? I thought you hated those woke assholes.

Skum: Monterrey in Mexico, Trumpie Baby.

MacTrump (murmurring): Don’t call me that in front of others, please Elon.

Skum (in a loud voice): Ok, Donnie. Will do, but what about the tariffs?

Miller (hovering a few inches above the floor): We’ll take a look at that, Elon.

Rubio: It’ll put up the price of guacamole, Señor Presidente.

MacTrump: Holy Guacamole! Why? It’s as American as Apple Pie and Slavery.

Skum: Donnie, I’ve prepared the executive order for you to sign. It exempts any of my products from the tariffs.

MacTrump (whispering to Rubio): What does ‘exempt’ mean?

Skum: Here’s that big marker pen you like so much, Donnie. Just sign here.

MacTrump: Ok Elon. Hey, where’s that other Fella? That Vivian Ramjamsambam guy?

Miller: He’s gone, Prez, y’know. We couldn’t do nuttin’.

Bobby ‘Linctus’ Kennedy Junior enters the room with a medical kit and a nurse dressed in hunting gear.

Kennedy (clearing his throat): Mister Pres…(cough)…it’s time for…(cough)…your shot.

MacTrump: Shot?! (he ducks and Pete Hegseth leaps to cover the President with his body).

Kennedy: Your…(cough)…vitamin shot, Mister President.

MacTrump (getting up with his hair all askew and wafting around): Oh, yeah, right. Thanks Pete.

Hegseth: Can I pat your hair down into place, Commander? Can I? Please, pretty please.

MacTrump: Yeah, later Pete. I’m feeling peckish. Pop out and get me a Triple Mega MacPounder with Extra Cheese. Get one for everybody.

Hegseth holds out his hand for the money. MacTrump gives him his best mean scowl.

Hesgeth: But that’s Kristi’s job. She’s the woman. They’re for breeding and going shopping.

Kristi ‘Ab’ Noemal: Ah’m the head of Homesville Security an’ I’ll whup yer ass, Peter Megahead.

Benjamin Netan@yahoo bursts the Romper Room and holds his arms aloft in triumph. Everyone except MacTrump cheers and claps and Skum thumps his chest and thrusts out his arm.

Skum: All hail the Netan@yahoo!

Netan@yahoo: Please, please, I’m too modest. I can only claim 90% of the credit. The other 10% goes to Benni Gantz and the Jets. No SAMs, you know. Hamas and Hezbollah have no SAMs. Makes it a lot easier.

MacTrump: No Sams? What’s he Talking about?

Elon puffs out his cheeks and sighs.

Skum: Just need that relief map of Switzerland you call a signature, Don Trumpo.

MacTrump: I am like a Don. Hey, youse talkin’ tah me? Joey Gaza!!

Rubio (in a whisper): It’s ‘Zaza’ el Presidente. ‘Joey Zaza’.

MacTrump: Hell, I Know that.

Skum (now visibly irked and lurching into Afrikaan): Jus sign thah frickin’ thing, ya kont.

Netan@yahoo: Speaking of Gaza, President Perfect.  We need to convince the Palestinians that it’s in their best interests to leave. Go and live with their brethren in Egypt or Jordan or Bradford, y’know? We could build a whole lot of beachfront condos there. Get some wrinklies from Florida to move there. Can you have a word with el-Sisi, Abdullah and Keir Starmer?

MacTrump: You callin’ me a cissy? And who’s Ikea Stammerer?

Hegseth: Sir Keir Starmer, Mr. President. He’s the Prime Minister of England.

Skum: Great Britain.

Noemal: The United Kingdom.

MacTrump: Hell, he’s the PM of 3 Countries?! I’m only President of one. Fix that, Stephen.

Miller: I’ll get right on it, Mr. God’s Chosen One.

A call came through to the Hotline. Rubio answers: It’s Piddy Puff Diddy for you, President.

MacTrump: What the Hell does Piddle..Diddle, whatever his name is, want? It’d Better be a Rope to hang Himself

Skum (stroking a Persian cat): You need to make that Diddly Squat disappear, Don.

Rubio: He wants you to act as a witness, Mr. Prez.

MacTrump: Do WHAAAAAAT?! Why I outta!

Hegseth: Let me at him! I’ll use my Fox News Interro…Interview Manual.

MacTrump: What, like waterboarding?

Hegseth: No, I’ll bludgeon him to death with it. (Puts on Samuel L. voice) It’s a big mutherfuckin’ book.

Rubio: Just get Laura Ingrams to interview him. That voice will slice him up like chopped liver.

Noemal: Ooh, Marco bares his teeth. Go get ‘em tiger.

Rubio: Go get some more surgery done. Your bottom lip’s flapping around.

Hegseth: It’s always done that.

Netan@yahoo: Someone mention my favorite food?

Miller: You mean a Palestinian’s chopped liver?

Everyone laughed except the Israeli Primed and Loaded Minister, who looked at Miller and hissed. Miller hissed back.

Netan@yahoo: I’ve got an attack drone with your name on it.

Hesgeth (looking agitatatedly at his watch): President Greatness, is this meeting going to last much longer? I have…err…an appointment.

Miller: With Jim Beam?

The door of the Romper Room flies open and in strides Tom ‘Bolshie Border Czar’ Homan: Who needs whackin’? Ah’m yer man.

MacTrump: There’s my pitbull. You can start with Piddle Diddle and that Colombus asshole president. Then, I’ve got a Special Mission for you, Border Man. I want you to Train up my son, Barrrron. Make him into a Killer like his Brothers. He’s Good with the Crypto crap…wallets and whatever…but he’s a Mummy’s boy. Don’t let My wife Ivank…Ivania…Melankia…whatever her name is…know I Said that. She’ll cut all My ties in half.

Skum: Can you just sign this, Don Trumpollini? Please!

As if summoned by demonic powers, Generalia Melania ‘Za-Za’ Trumpette wafted into the War Room, swathed in endangered furs and a cloud of Chanel No. 666 (made for her and her alone): I vant to meet ziz Piddy Diddy.

A load groan reverberates around the Romper Room.

Generalia Melania: Make it heppen, Prezzie Hubbie. And I vant you to buy my old contree Slovenia. Forget zat sillee Green von.

MacTrump (to Elon): Where the Hell is Slovenly Enya?

Skum: I’ll buy it for her, Trumpy; just sign this.

This is going to be written off the cuff…no planning…no fixed ideas.

Hands up who thinks the world is on the brink of a disaster. If you’re holding your hand up; you’re right. In a previous blog, I compared (semi-jokingly) to Blofeld, the arch criminal in many James Bond films. Now, I’m not friggin’ joking.

Musk is flexing his financial/megalomaniacal muscles now in a way that has gone way beyond any reasonable limit, and the danger to this world of ours is that he now has the backing of the Leader of the Free World (well, unless you live in Greenland or the Panama Canal Zone). Really, are no alarm bells sounding? A man who has so much money at his disposal that he could buy several countries, and who is the owner/CEO of a company whose satellites are saturating outer space, a company that is sending rockets to Mars and the Great Beyond, a hugely popular and influential social media site, of Tesla and…it could go on and on. The rumour is that he’s thinking of buying Tik Tok. Who is going to stop him? He is the John D. Rockefeller of our age, but at least Standard Oil was broken up to maintain competition in the oil industry. Would Trump even dream of limiting Musk’s monopolistic ambitions? He will certainly dominate AI and robotics in the near future. Philip K. Dick was only a few years out.

His political leanings are now so far to the right that I’m waiting for that little square moustache to appear on his upper lip. And, how long will it be until we see Trump with a ring through his nose, being led around by his ‘buddy’. The Man Who Would be King was once against electric vehicles and cryptocurrencies. Now, he loves them and, of course, he’s all for deregulation in the tech industry.

Can no-one in the Republican Party see or sense the danger in such an enormously wealthy and powerful individual having so much influence on the president and his policies? Does no-one understand the phrase ‘conflict of interest’?

In his barbed attacks on the governments of other countries, Musk has left out the very country that deserves to be attacked the most; China. And why, Elon, is that? Well, I think we all know. Will he have a word in Trump’s ear about placing tariffs on goods from China? If it hurts Tesla, then he surely will.

The next four years will be crucial for all of us, not just for Americans. I have a feeling that the next president of the USA will be a Democrat…or an android.