The Skeeter Daddle Diaries

Good show, what? The Yank wanker has brought his entourage to the Kingdom and to make certain the Brits understand who it is they’ve invited, he immediately weighs in on their Brexit malaise, insults the mayor of London as a ‘stone cold loser’ and calls one of the Royals ‘nasty’. Fleet Street might get away with calling a Royal names, but not so much a foreigner, it’s a family perk, you understand. Trump, despite a recording anyone with a computer can punch up for a corroborating visual, denies ever saying what he actually said. Fake news. Monty Python, where are you when you’re needed.

Welcome to the island, Guvner! As an ugly American, what better ambassador of ill will? What cringe-worthy moments for our emancipated colony? All that fuss over a tax on tea only to arrive two and a half centuries later with a fop for a president? A Shakespeare might do justice to this comedy, but us moderns, not so much. Maybe when the dust clears and the court jester sums up the insanity of these past years, we can find the humor and the pathos in a 5 season Netflix production: Trump Tower, loosely based on Fawlty Tower and actual people.

Trump the Lion Hearted, not so much an English king version, maybe more of a Wizard of Oz lion, the one nervously chewing his tail. The Queen refused to let the American couple sleep in Buckingham Palace, something about remodeling difficulties, more probably concerns about grabbing the privates of the Downstairs maid staff. The poor Brits, lost in the woods of a no deal exit from the EU, now host to Bannon’s boss with a penchant for lack of manners, morals and common sense. Stirs the national mood with a fork, not a teaspoon.

Oh King George, why did you surrender back in 1783? They were ragtag ignorant woodsmen and potato farmers, after all, rude and backward, now they’ve made a clown their prince. That shot heard round the world is become a string of petty nasty insults. Hail to the Fool! Long Live the King!

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