The next President of the United States. . . from the great state of Trumptonshire!

1661
There follows a party political broadcast on behalf of the Trump Town Republican Party. . .

[Announcer] “HERE is the clot, the Trump Town clot. Telling the Trump Town ‘truth’; never too accurately, never too faithfully. Telling his tales from Trump Town. . . “

[Music] “Muslim, Jew, Sikh or Hindu, Jehovahs and Mormons won’t do”
[Windy Miller and Donald the Trump Town Clot are in earnest conversation]
WINDY: Bad business, that More Slim couple from Camberwick Green. Coming over here, winning Bake Off . . .
DONALD: And taking gold in the 10,000 and 5,000 metres.
WINDY: They’re all the same from over there.
DONALD: True! They’re out of control all over Trumptonshire: one of them attacked Boris the Biker with a baseball bat.
WINDY: Not all bad, then?
DONALD: What?! It’s out of hand, I tell you. Postman Pat’s afraid to walk the streets of Greendale unless he’s got Jess the cat to protect him.
WINDY: Can’t PC Potter do anything to stop it?
DONALD: Nah! Once they’re here they live off benefits and human rights! We should get Captain Snort and his men from Pippin Fort to keep the More Slims out altogether!
WINDY: That’s right!
DONALD: Make the Bake Off great and British again!
WINDY: As for the athletics, dump Mo Farah and bring back Seb Coe!
DONALD [aside]: Let’s not go TOO far!
Both leave, barking at the moon. . .

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