It’s hard being the Prime Minister, you know. Having to clean up after the Brexiteers is no laughing matter, neither is having to negotiate with that Donald Trump. I like a charismatic businessman, but this man is simply intolerable. I thought Boris Johnson was all hot air, but Donald takes that prize by a thousand fold. Between them, I don’t know whose foreign policy is worse. Richard Branson could fill a whole balloon with their respective egos.
I’m just glad he’s supposed to be in Edinburgh, not London. What are they going to talk about, anyway? Nicola Sturgeon, Scotland’s stubborn-as-all-hell First Minister has made her feelings on the man quite clear. He’ll either bore her with talks of himself, his golf course, his beautiful daughter or severely irritate her with his ‘diplomacy’. I don’t know. I’m at home about to have my dinner. I really should try and switch off, watch a bit of Murder She Wrote or Miss Marple.
But I simply can’t! Like anything that crashes and burns, you can’t quite take your eyes off it. Like that Love Island show the plebs love so much. My whole life is just work, work, work.
Nothing much has changed. Just war, Russia, tragedies, murder, Trump, Trump, tragedies, terrorism, bankers who are my friends- all the nonsense I hear about during the day at work. I’m about to change the channel when a new development catches my eye:
In attempting diplomacy with Scotland, the President has ended up in Glasgow.
The flight had to be redirected for some unknown reason, so they had to land in Glasgow. I mean, it’s not too far from Holyrood. He could always get a helicopter or something- it would suit him, the show-boating bastard. In a sweet twist of fate, the driver he’s brought with him is taking him into Glasgow’s city centre. I’ve heard it’s a nightmarish labyrinth of a one-way system, so thank goodness I’ve never had to step foot in that awful place. Oh boy! Does Donald know the driver has taken him the completely the wrong way? The drone cameras from Sky News are capturing the whole thing from the sky, as the car drifts obliviously through Glasgow.
Not that any of the plebs would be surprised. I would have expected better from the President of the United States and his detail, but I must be naïve. They can’t even find their way to Scotland’s capital. For a man who’s business is in Scotland, you’d think he’d at least be able to follow a satnav. Is anything surprising anymore?
I don’t think Nicola Sturgeon has the heart to tell him in all honesty. Neither do those cowards backing him in the White House. It’s her job after all. Don’t look at me, like that. My smoked salmon mousse is in the oven. I couldn’t possibly leave it be!
Besides, Scotland is a country of its own- sort of. It’s not my problem! It’s a matter devolved to Holyrood! They want their devolution they can have it!
It’ll serve as a nice distraction while I try and figure out what the deuce to do with Brexit. Now that utter buffoon Boris is gone, I must get Jeremy Hunt to do his job for him. Hunt’s done a great job dismantling the NHS for me, maybe he can do the same with Brexit. We can laugh about the whole thing and forget it ever happened.
In any case, the BBC will probably frame today as yet another SNP blunder. No doubt they’ll ask me for my say, and all I could say would be- Scotland’s First Minister should have been better prepared. I know it’s Trump’s fault, what isn’t these days, but the plebs will lap it up, especially the loyalists. Oh I’ve not done anything this naughty since running through that farmer’s field or using the plebs money to go to the Maldives!
NOTE: This improbable scenario can be blamed on the original prompt, which was given at Toonspeak’s young writers workshop. I was to write a story about Trump coming to Glasgow from the POV of my given character, Theresa May. I had a lot of fun writing from her point of view, though probably won’t do it again unless I’m paid to (hint, hint).