Saturday, 18 March 2017

Ang and Don: Minutes of the Meeting.

I’ve been wondering all day how Angela and Donald have been getting along. In particular, I wondered whether they’d need an ice bucket to accompany the lunchtime drinks, or whether the G&Ts would freeze over without assistance. And then I wondered what the tone of their conversation might be.

‘Hey, little lady – er, Mrs Heinkel – how about…’


‘Say again.’

‘Merkel. My name’s Merkel, not Heinkel.’

‘No kid.’

‘No kid.’

‘Well anyways, how about you and me hold hands when we go out to meet the press?’

‘Certainly not.’

‘Why not, for Christ’s sake?’

‘Because I’m very choosy about whose hand I’m prepared to hold.’

‘Aw, c’mon now. The Brit bitch did it – April whatever-her-name-is.’


‘April May? Damn; that’s some cool name.’

‘No, her surname is May. Her first name is Theresa. There is no April.’

‘No kid.’

‘No kid.’

‘Well anyways, if she could do it, why can’t you?’

‘Because you have what I believe is called a ‘special relationship’ with the British. Heaven know why.’

‘We do?’


‘No kid.’

‘No kid. And I’m not British, I’m German.’

‘So what? British, German, what the hell? You’re all the same over there, just a bunch of dumbass faggots who let women be President.’

‘I’m not a President. Neither is Mrs May.’



‘No kid.’


‘Now you just look’ee here, you (expletive deleted) Kraut whore. You’re in my country now, and I’m King. It’s the first duty of every woman to do what a man tells her, especially when he’s King.’

‘Not in my book, it isn’t. You’re a little out of touch with the times, Mr Trump.’

‘But we have so much in common, little lady. We both got our wires tapped by the enemies of the people.’

‘I don’t believe that’s true.’

‘So who needs truth?’

‘Do you have any evidence?’

‘Who needs evidence?’


‘Now you’re just being hysterical. Typical woman. You only have to grab their pussy and they become hysterical. Who needs ’em?’

‘Given the lamentable paucity of reason and restraint in your own pronouncements, Mr Trump, I’d say that’s just a mite hypocritical.'

'Stop calling me Mr Trump! Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! It's President Trump and don't you forget it.'

'I certainly won't. President, eh? You do surprise me. In that case I’ll make you an offer.’

‘You will?’

‘I will.’

‘No kid.’

‘No kid. I’ll betray my finer feelings and hold your hand if you’ll take your wig off.’

‘Now come on, you (expletive deleted) liberal ass wipe. That’s way below the belt.’

‘I know. It’s where my boot should be.’

‘OK, OK. If you’re going to play the sassy (expletive deleted) German slut, I guess we’d better start talking some policy.’

‘I’d rather just go home.’

Can you guess which side I’m on?

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