TRUMP: A FAILURE TO HIMSELF

By any objective standards, Donald Trump is a successful man.

He’s very rich, very famous and now very powerful.

If you’re a vain man, that’s the holy trinity.

And yet he sullenly pouts about crowd sizes. He feels the need to rent-a crowd, just so he can be cheered.

He makes verifiably false claims at the most inappropriate times. We can but hope he never gets to speak at a funeral.

He constantly reminds us, or perhaps himself, that he’s a smart guy.

Any mention of his hands immediately prompts a furious defence of the size of his manhood.

He surrounds himself with people who will do his bidding, no matter how absurd, or untrue, or childish. Sean and Kellyanne are nothing more than ventriloquist’s dummies and both seem to relish having his hand up their arse, though Mr. Spicer does seem to be vomiting internally when he speaks.

Then there’s Steve Bannon, who looks like he’s just emerged from a bar fight.

Apparently he’s the brains of the outfit, the power behind the throne, the intellectual substance behind the Elvis Presley furnishings.

I’m not so sure.

Basically he walks around with a banner saying that the end of the word is nigh.

That’s his geo-political view. And because things are so desperate, it’s time for white folk to take control.

Alt right? Control Alt delete.

For all his wealth and power, Little Donnie Trump doesn’t get invited to play at the really fashionable birthday parties.

The boy from Queens still hasn’t made it in the borough that counts.

The brokers of Manhattan want nothing to do with him. Kids can be so cruel.

But who can blame them? No-one want a fleshy, prematurely orange, neurotic daddy’s boy screwing up the crib.

Trump thought that being the President would change all that. Sorry, must try harder.