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Election Madness: It’s All Over, or Is It?

Election Madness: It’s All Over, or Is It?
November 08
15:45 2016

MICHAEL J BLAIR
Perthshire, Scotland

(I’m writing this before the polls have closed, so this is all conjecture and bollocks.)

The people had spoken, and Donald Trump only understood the English speaking ones. This puzzled the cotton candy haired, orange faced, newly elected President of the United States.

Just how had these people who didn’t have a grasp of the language and had been vilified by him for months, voted in high enough numbers to have elected him to the presidency?

None of this made sense. But very little that had happened recently, had made any sense. The polls had had him trailing well behind his opponent, the jolly smiling, well liked Hillary Clinton. He had really just been going through the motions in the last few weeks. Making the usual rude comments and racial slurs, but not with his normal venom.

He had been certain he was fighting a lost cause.

But no, he had actually won. He was now the President of the USA!

He sat in his massive Trump armchair in his massive Trump suite in his enormous, gaudy Trump hotel. How the hell had this happened?

He had only decided to run because he knew the publicity would be massive, and good for his enormous ego and his immense property empire. It was never meant to serious!

Now he was having to face the reality of actually putting into practice his amazing and un-thought out grandiose plans for the country.

This was a disaster of the most humongous proportions! This was bigger than any words to describe size, he could muster. And this was a man who new a lot of words for big. But not very many big words.

He ran his fingers through his golden hair, which was on the enormous table beside his gigantic chair. Without looking, he picked up his hair and placed it on his huge head. A noise from the door made him turn his head. As he did, a ginger tomcat leapt from his head and ran towards the door.

He looked, and his hair was still on the immense table. “That fucking cat” he yelled! He was always mistaking the massive feline for his hair!

His closest aide, Bud Buttlicker, slid into the room, and said, “Good morning, Mr President.”

The bouffant buffoon looked up blankly at Buttlicker. Then he realised it was true. He really was the President.
Buttlicker told him he should prepare for a press conference. Yes, he should.

He strode presidentially towards the enormous door to the vast gold-plated bathroom. With a quick look at his amazingly handsome rust-coloured face, he stepped into the immense shower. The steaming hot water cascaded over his toned body. Toned mahogany as a matter of fact.

He scrubbed and scrubbed, but the damn fake tan wouldn’t budge. Never again, he thought! He washed his hair and hung it up on a specially made, huge hook on the shower. Carefully, he washed his hu, his enor, his tiny penis. This explained many massive questions!

He got out of the shower and slowly dried himself off. The reality and enormity of the election result was sinking into him. Putting on his monogrammed dressing gown, he opened the door and walked into the lounge.

Buttlicker told him to get dressed because the press were waiting down in the lobby for him to give his first speech as president.

Together, along with the huge number of secret service agents, they walked briskly to the elevators. As the doors opened in the lobby, there was a blinding flash and a loud noise.

Then he woke up!

Follow The Party of Common Sense on Twitter, at @tpocs

ALSO BY MJ BLAIR

Trump & Clinton Effect: Democracy Deliberately Destroyed

Vote Bollocks Or Water Buffalo

The Brexit Turkeys have come home to roost

Michael J Blair contributes political analysis to DDA, and he can be reached at: michaelblair43@googlemail.com. His Twitter handle is: @mmjblair

[Trump penthouse photo by Quentin Perinel, Le Figaro, Wikimedia Commons]

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