The Donald would have been the first one to say

That he hadn’t had his very best start to the day.

His struggles with the sheets had left him gasping for air,

And it was only after Ivana adjusted his hair

That the mysterious curtain was lifted

(There really had been a curtain, The Donald insisted).

But now he really need to think

About the alleged Chinese link

To the Russian whack back attack

Which was somehow related to a hack.

A what? It sounded sports related,

Something that The Donald really hated.

It was so confusing this League of Nations

Monitored by CIA listening stations.

And from their embassy came the Chinese

Greeted by The President, apparently pleased.

“Hurrah” he exclaimed “let’s see what we’ve got

Something sweet, something sour, something spicy and hot.”

“No Mr President, I think you’re confused.”

The delegation were impassive despite being abused.

“Mr President, these allegations we fiercely reject.

They’re entirely unfounded, you’ve lost our respect.

And as for the suggestion we’ve brought you a treat,

We’d ask you kindly not to repeat

The expletive filled rant that went on for so long

When you phoned the wrong number, and who’s Mr Wong?

And why were you screeching things not very nice?

And ranting about spare ribs and special fried rice?

You were talking to our Premier, Mr Zedong.

Not some takeaway shopkeeper, you’ve got it all wrong.

So you owe an apology, nothing less will do.”

Th Donald was struggling, trying to think it through.

A Premier? A what? A Mr Ze-who?

Was this fictitious or factitious? Who knew?

The Donald smiled his smile and sank to the ground.

As he slowly turned his wig back around.

Until it covered his face as before,

And he swiftly fell asleep curled up on the floor.

The President had got out of the wrong side of bed.

He should have tried the top end instead.

He actually headed south to the depths of his covers

And was only rescued by the kindness of others.

The maid found him trapped, tangled up in a sheet.

She knew he was there because of his feet,

Which stuck out the top, one adorned with his wig,

While the rest of him thrashed about like a pig

Stuck in a barrel and making a sound

Like a cross between a seagull and an overexcited bloodhound.

When released from his bed he turned on his saviour

And said “don’t for a minute think this has earned you a favour.

For I am The Donald and the best I can do,

Is to send my thoughts and prayers to you”.

With that he dismissed her in a manner most rude

Not helped by the fact he was entirely nude

Except for the wig which now sat on his head.

He had found it as he escaped from his bed

And plonked it on with a curse and a grunt

But hadn’t yet noticed it was on back to front.

At breakfast this mattered not a jot.

He only had coffee with cream, just a spot.

But at his first meeting he became increasingly certain

That someone had erected a blond, horsehair curtain

Somewhere between his desk and his eyes

Which resulted in him having a terrible surprise.

He was scratching his nuts, alone in his chair,

When he heard a small cough, there was somebody there!

He peered through the thick strands blocking his vision.

He could see a blurred figure so he made a decision.

“Who is that?” he shouted feeling all harassed.

“It’s me” came the reply, clearly embarrassed.

While not the quickest, he wasn’t so dense

As to not recognise the Secretary for Defence.

“What do you want Stan, I’m having a bad day.

Can’t you see someone’s hung a curtain in my way?”

Stan was perplexed by the sight of The President

Looking like an enraged Monkey House resident.

“I’m sorry Sir but there’s been a cyber attack.

We think it’s the Russians behind the hack.”

The Donald turned away revealing the back of his head

Which sported a fringe, “errr Mr President” Stan said.

“What’s this cyber nonsense you’re rabbiting about?”

The President spun round, he’d started to shout.

“Those Russians will regret this hack, whack attack.

The only thing for it is to hack, whack them back.”

“So your orders, Mr President” Stan said to the wig

“Will have repercussions, which could be quite big”.

“Get on with it man” came the response.

“I shouldn’t have to say things any more than once.”

Stan looked at the man with his wig over his face,

And thought to himself is this the finest member of the human race

We could have elected to be Commander in Chief?

Who looks like he’d be more comfortable eating a leaf

Or a banana, a plum or peach

We would have been better with something washed up on a beach.

Like a crab or a turd or an old palm tree frond,

Or whatever crawled out of the bottom of a pond.

He sighed to himself and walked out of the room

With his orders provided by a wig wearing buffoon.

And The President sat back down and continued to stare Intently into his back to front hair.

He was sure the liberal elite were behind this diversion. Then he closed his eyes and slept behind his hair curtain.