Donald Trump should be peeling potatoes this Christmas. That is something I would like to see. Not because I want to reduce his opulent lifestyle to a repetitive menial task – although I would be fine with that – but because I’ve got a hunch he might be good at it.
Not the first one. I think it might be difficult to persuade Donald Trump to peel the first potato. I don’t know how many he’s previously peeled in his life, though he actually might. I doubt it’s a figure he’d release to the media, mind you. But it may be so small that he’s kept it in his head. I don’t think I’ve peeled particularly many potatoes over the years, but it’s enough that I’ve lost count. That’s not necessarily true for Donald.
It could actually be zero – unlikely, but it could – or it could be, say, one or four. Or 13 or six. Well, you know the small numbers – I don’t have to keep giving examples. What I’m saying is that there could have been a few occasions when he’s peeled one as a sort of stunt or joke because he’s so rich he, of course, would never need to peel potatoes. Even his jacket potatoes have probably been peeled, and then a special haute couture jacket, tailored from the skins of other potatoes, fitted before baking begins. Then, as the elegantly attired potato is removed from the oven, a mini-Trump hairstyle, crafted from finest mature cheddar, is lovingly placed on top, so the great man is presented with a dish deliciously fashioned in his own image.
But if you could persuade Donald Trump to start peeling potatoes – if you could get him to agree to peel two or three – I think something amazing and frightening might happen. For he is a man with a knack for momentum. Unlike the Labour party, ironically. He’s like an oil tanker – physically, metaphorically and intellectually. Once his course has been set, it takes huge opposing forces to reverse it.
So once he’s peeling potatoes, he could soon be providing chips for the world. If he were helping out at your family Christmas, you might have to remortgage your house to provide more potatoes for the peeling beast you’d unleashed. Otherwise, he’d just peel anything that came to hand: loaves of bread, kettles, carriage clocks, children. “Save us from the great peeling monster,” you would cry, as Trump screamed from his hellish peel-pit: “The skin is not the best bit! Death to the hippies who say it is!”
I was reflecting on Trump’s momentum partly because he went from a reality TV wig-joke, to an outspoken liar, to a Republican candidate who didn’t stand a chance of getting the nomination, to a Republican nominee who didn’t stand a chance of winning the election, to the winner of the election who doesn’t stand a chance of destroying the world. But also because he’s currently appointing people to important jobs in America and he seems to be running out of metaphorical potatoes.
He’s started making other appointments that aren’t in his gift: last week he tried to make Nigel Farage British ambassador to the US. This is the political equivalent of peeling the egg-timer, and he won’t stop there. If his aides didn’t keep changing his Twitter password, there’d be no job in the UK for which he wouldn’t suggest a head‑turning appointee.
Director general of the BBC – Jeremy Clarkson
“He’d do a great job! He knows television and – what else? Radio? Yeah, radio. He’s got a radio in the car. Listen to me, there are two types of man: those who hit and those who get hit. Clarkson’s a hitter – it’s proven. His enemies say it: he’s a hitter, he hits, he hit a guy. Like that’s a problem. He’s a big hitter. That’s what we learn in business: put the big hitters in the big jobs, so he should be manager of the whole, you know…. Monty Python, The Coronation, Downton Abbey, great work. But now the reporting… all lies. Sad… sad what’s happened. Benny Hill, you know. Where did it go?”
Prime minister – James Bond
“OK, first of all, I know he’s fictional. James Bond is fictional. We know that. But he’s based on someone, right? That’s fiction. Everyone’s based on someone. They don’t make it up. Who makes it up? You can’t. Batman, Superman, Winston Churchill, Peppa Pig, they’re based on people. You need to get that guy, find that guy James Bond is based on, give him the job. If he’s dead, give his son the job. Don’t tell me he didn’t have a son.”
Governor of the Bank of England – Milo Yiannopoulos
“He’s an interesting young man. He’s smart, he’s… I don’t know how to put it… unconventional. Right? You know what I’m saying… And that name… very… and I admire those people, I admire them very much. So, this job, it’s what, a banking job? Sure. Got to be smart. Give the kid a break. Why not?”
Headmaster of Hogwarts – Jeremy Corbyn
“I’ve only seen a picture of the guy, but it seems obvious.”
Black Rod – Rod Stewart
“What is that? Is that another magical one? Or a Caribbean Rod Stewart tribute act that you have in your parliament? Jesus Christ. Well, no, I’m sorry. Get the real Rod. White Rod. Get Rod, show some respect. That’s not racist. I’m the least racist person in this room. Everyone else here is KKK, so… but I am not racist. Just get Rod. This matters, people.”
The Queen – Joan Collins
“Queen Elizabeth is a very nice lady, no question. Very nice. But she’s scared, just look at her. You only have to look at her, that smile… frightened. She’s anxious, she’s old. Not as old as Joan, I accept that. No one’s as old as Joan. But Joan can take it. She’s a real bitch, you know. She won’t mind that I said that. She’d say that herself. She’s a bitch and she’d kick ass.”
Chancellor of the exchequer – Sir Philip Green
“No one’s paying my pension, yeah? Let me tell you. No one. I wouldn’t let them. Now this guy, he gets out, right? He abandons a sinking ship – smart move, real smart. And now, what, he’s got to pay pensions to the drowned?! He’s got to give up his yacht for that… ship? No. This is a guy you need to listen to. Let him turn things round. I guarantee you – six weeks, the UK is in profit. Six weeks, I guarantee.”
