November 28th, 2020

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The double act making comedic diplomacy great again photo: Hasse Ferrold)

Trump will be remembered as the biggest whiner in history and its worst ever president. 

Orange is the new inmate
No, I didn’t accidentally leave ‘US’ out … that’s including Ferdinand Marcos, Baby Doc Duvalier, PW Botha, and Idi Amin.

With any justice he’ll become a euphemism for deplorable human being. “You Trump!” citizens will shout and sneer. 

I look forward to the day when his stupidity, orange-ness, tweets and family members are all a very distant memory – hopefully in prison. 

Boris Johnson, ‘The Lazy Etonian’, will be sad to see him go as he licks his self-inflicted wounds in self-isolation. I wouldn’t miss him either if he decided never to appear in public again – would you? 

He recently said he was “fit as a butcher’s dog”. More like “mad as a fucking hatter!” 

Double Dominic dilemma
Here’s a whine of mine, although it’s at the front of a pretty long queue that includes stopping adverts for all gambling on the TV and radio, giving Dominic Cummings a good smack and arresting Steve Bannon for inciting violence. 

I haven’t heard one positive reason for the chaos that Brexit will cause yet (answers on a postcard please to this newspaper). 

I have an issue with the former British ambassador Dominic Schroeder – who recently left these shores without saying goodbye (hurtful) – and recently disgraced US ambassador Carla Sands (I am proud to say that I never invited her to any of my productions), who will soon be waving farewell too. 

Schroeder and Sands, who sound like a bad comedy double act, have both proved they are people ever-ready and willing to lie for their respective bosses. No doubt they will soon be spreading untruths somewhere else.  

Spluttering shambles
I went to Bornholm at the behest of Schroeder three summers ago to take part in a debate about Brexit. Little did I know that as a ‘remainer’, I was outnumbered three to one. 

We were asked to bring something that we thought represented the country we lived in. Kim Bildsøe Lassen, a DR TV reporter chap who was based in London, brought the front page of The Times printed on the day after the Referendum, which had one word emblazoned on it: “FREEDOM”.

Dansk Folkeparti representative Søren Espersen brought a china cup and saucer saying: “No matter what happens, the English will always make themselves feel better by having a nice cup of tea.” Only a cup, I thought. This Brexit shambles matey will take an ocean of tea to drown our sorrows. 

Schroeder, his diplomatic skills badly out of sync that day, brought a night-light (fyrfadslys) and accused a mainly Danish audience of “wasting the world’s resources” by burning candles at 4pm on a sunny June afternoon. 

“Why do you do this?” he spluttered, putting whatever size feet he’s got onto a slippery Scandinavian smørrebrød. 

My microphone was on and I said: “It’s called hygge”. Laughter all round, but dear Dominic didn’t get the joke. 

Playing with our lives
I produced a pile of 28 Lego bricks and asked an audience member on the front row to be creative and build something that represented Europe. When she was finished, I asked her to choose one piece and to throw it away. 

That piece represented the UK, I pointed out. A piece that had chosen to no longer play with the others. A piece that lay on the floor, alone, isolated and ignored. That’s the piece we have become. It is embarrassing. It is a crying shame and many people’s lives are going to be ruined. 

Sadly, it will make our COVID-19 problems – thanks to its longevity, we have postponed our forthcoming production of Rub-a-Dub-Dub by Fergal O’Byrne until the spring of 2022 – look minor in comparison.