Category: Donald Trump

Widespread relief today at the confirmation that President Donald Trump has denied revoking President Vladimir Putin’s Whitehouse security clearance.

”FAKE KNEWS!!!,!!!” 45 wrote on Twitter, during his morning toilet meeting with himself, “The lieing MSM wants you to beleive there is love lost between myself and my GOOD FIEND Mister PUT-IN. It is a lye. There is no love lost. NON.”

It was a timely rebuttal that settled nerves in the world’s diplomatic circles after nocturnal reports that Mr Trump had indeed revoked Mr Putin’s security clearance.

”Mister President Putin is still welcome to enter the Whitehouse and walk straight into the Oval Office whenever he pleases,” Sarah Huckabee confirmed, while not taking questions from the press,

“and if he can’t personally attend a meeting with Donald then any of the high level spies, informants or honey trap agents in his employ are welcome in his place,

”And if they are unable to personally promote Mr Putin’s agenda with our President than the unsecured mobile phones he uses can still be activated as listening devices. No one has anything to fear.”

Welcome clarification.

”Every former high ranking, and many serving top level US intelligence agents and administrative officials are banned on security grounds, but, and this is very important, Mr Putin is not, and never will be, on that list. You can not just bad mouth Donald’s paymaster and expect to waltz around the halls of power any longer.”

Not if 45 has anything to say about it.

”And this is nothing to do with any pee tapes. We know Trump’s base will just lap those up anyway. It’s to do with rewarding loyalty to your friends.”

And not your country?

”God Save The Security Clearance.”

The latest White House press conference was abandoned today after a seemingly innocuous question brought proceedings to a complete standstill. The question in question came, innocently enough, from one Terence Blue-Bottell, attached to Fox News.

“What time is it Donald?”

In response, the Donald pulled a piece of paper from his jacket pocket, and waved it up high in the air, and announced that he had written it down for himself that morning so he wouldn’t forget, and if anyone asked him the time, he could just show them this. Whereupon he looked at the piece of paper and announced that it was 8 o’clock.

I checked my own watch, which said it was 2pm. A lot of others did the same, and got roughly the same result, give or take maybe five minutes either way.

At this point, another of my colleagues, one Henry Crun, asked Mr Trump what he did when the time wasn’t 8 o’clock.

“That’s easy, I just don’t show them.”

So now asked Mrs Minnie Bannister, did he know when it was 8 o’clock?

“Hey, I got it written down on a piece of paper, what more do you want?”

Several of the attendant press corps then demanded to inspect the paper. Trump refused, explaining that this was too important a document to be allowed into the hands of ordinary mortals like ourselves.

At this point, a Mr Dennis Bloodnok asked if the piece of paper was ticking.

“What, like a bomb you mean? Of course it isn’t, you can’t make a bomb out of a piece of paper, that’s just stupid.”

This drew a small laugh from his cronies, but a stony silence from everybody else.

It quickly became apparent that the piece of paper was the only thing anyone was going to ask him about, at which point Mr Trump called the conference to a close and stormed out of the room in a huff. All because he had the time on a piece of paper.

The scary thing was, he believed it.

Archaeologists this week got rather more than they baragined for as they opened a black sarcophagus that had been sealed for millennia.

Investigating the ruins of what appeared to be an onyx pyramid, the team discovered the ancient tomb standing upright inside a giant replica of a skull, close to a stagnant pool of water.

The minute the seal was broken on the ancient coffin, the lid was flung out from inside, and out flew a scrawny blue being wrapped in bandages and wearing a red cloak. It flew around the ruins and declared, “wherever evil exists, Mumm-Ra lives!”

The archaeologists observed this being with some trepidation, as they had understandably not expected to find anything living inside the box. Expedition leader Jack Allman finally plucked up the courage to ask the creature who or what it was. This strange creature cackled hoarsely, and explained that its name was Mumm-Ra, and that it was the embodiment of all the evil in the world.

It then flew to the pool, and the archaeologists watched in terrified fascination as it then chanted:

“Ancient spirits of evil, transform this decayed form to Mumm-Ra The Ever Living!”

In a flash, the bandages flew off, the cloak changed shape to become a pair of wings, and Mumm-Ra himself grew in size, becoming about three or four feet taller and rippling with muscles. He then flew off, still cackling, and saying something about looking for something called the Eye of Thundera, which made about as much sense to the archaeologists as the rest of it.

That would have been the end of matters, the archaeological team from SlitheCorp would have just dismissed it as a mass hallucination and pretended that it never happened until a few minutes later, the being flew right back to them again and begged to be re-sealed inside his stony tomb.

Jack Allman continues:

“We couldn’t believe it either time. First he escapes, cackling insanely, then he flies back begging to be locked away again”

It turned out that Mumm-Ra had flown around the world looking to conquer it, headed for places of power, gone straight to the White House, taken one look at Donald Trump and decided that there was too much evil there even for him.

“We protested that the sarcophagus was too valuable a find to abandon,” Jack Allman added, “but then we all suddenly felt the breath leaving our bodies, and he was clearly doing it, so we agreed to get someone in who could do that.”

Engineer Lionel Rowe was flown in where he immediately set to work on fusing the two pieces of the sarcophagus back together. He described the events thus:

“It was strange, deliberately working to seal someone up. I felt like a murderer, until the creature explained that he had been existing inside it for thousands of years. I got a recording of it on my phone just to make sure I wasn’t imagining the whole thing, and then did it. Finally it was sealed, and we buried the sarcophagus as deeply as we could, again at his request. He said he hopes the next time he is released, the earth will have slightly less evil in it, because even he has his limits.”

So there you have it. Truth or myth? We don’t know. It’s easy to dismiss something like this as impossible, but the haunted look on Jack Allman’s face didn’t look faked.

They did tell us where to look for the sarcophagus, but advised strongly against it. As the choice of results for going there was between unleashing evil on the world and looking like fools for believing, we decided not to chance it.

Serial real-estate bankrupt, and 45th president of the United States Donald Trump Thursday issued a stern warning to the tiny Balkan republic of Montenegro, to reel in its plans for total global domination.

“We’ve had all kinds of problems with uppity negrans in America, there was one family in my house – we’re still cleaning the mess they left –  peaced everywhere. The last thing we want is more negran problems in Europe,” he warned.

“This is what happens when you have uncontrolled immigration, millions of negrans migrate to Europe and start their own countries,” he said.

“How did they get away with that – no one really knows, it’s kind of a mystery..” he explained, pointing out that moving north out of Africa had brought out their natural aggression.

“Montenegro is a tiny country with very strong people … They’re very aggressive people. They may get aggressive, and congratulations, you’re in world war three,” he cautioned explaining that you can tell the difference between Mountienegrans and or’nry negrans by the wide brimmed pointed hats and red tunics they wear.

“Like Canadians in disguise… lucky we built a wall and stopped them from crossing the border,” he smirked explaining that he had instructed his sons Donald Junior, Eric, Barron and Adolf never to go there.

“Blame…Canada…Africa…Montenegro…they’re the axis of evil, or at least that’s what my good friend Vladimir tells me to say” he warned darkly, apparently unaware that Montenegro is in Europe, its 630,000 population mostly speak Serbo-Croat and their 2,000 strong military would have trouble invading a house party.

The Editor Comments – if you think this attempt at satire is absurd, chew on this: One of these “quotes” is genuine. Trump really did warn that Montenegro could start WW3.

And, of course, promised that non of his sons, who all suffer from hereditary bone spurs, would be fighting in it..

LCD Views has heard exclusively from an alien, visiting the United States from a distant galaxy, today who wishes to explain to everyone,

”When I said take me to your leader, what I actually meant to say was DO NOT, under no circumstances, take me to meet that lying, treasonous, Cheeto faced shitgibbon.”

It seems the alien, who gives his name as E.T., decided to revisit the Earth to discuss a sequel to a famous documentary he filmed on Earth nearly forty years ago.

”I didn’t think the documentary showed aliens in an accurate light,” E.T. explains,

“all the time I spent discussing how the greys are secretly on Earth, and have been for a very long time, solely to conduct internal examinations of white men who live in rural areas of the USA, all that was completely cut out,

”I was pretty unimpressed when the television signals finally reached my home planet and I got a look at the movie. I decided I had to return and demand the full story gets told.”

And it seems E.T. assumed that the film maker in question would be running the States by now and so landed on the White House lawn.

”I don’t know if you’ve seen the tape of me stepping out of the spaceship this morning and saying take me to your leader?”

We have.

”Yeah, that was when I misspoke. I mean we’ve got some crazy looking critters out in deep space. Also some downright deranged life forms roaming about. But nothing compares to whatever that insane orange mass is that’s currently pretending to be human in the Oval Office.”

The election in November 2016 of four times bankrupt real estate tycoon Donald Trump as the 45th president of the United States has been exposed as little more than a clever TV stunt by controversial English comedian Sacha Baron Cohen.

Confronted outside the White House yesterday, out of costume and out of character, Cohen was quick to accept that the game was up.

“You got me, I is been exposed, I is not really da president,” he conceded, lapsing nervously into the pseudo Jamaican patois of his earlier creation Ali G.

Pressed on how he was able to perpetrate such a stunt, sailing through the Republican primaries without even his closest advisers realising he wasn’t really Trump, and was in fact a nice Cambridge educated Jewish boy from north London, Cohen was more expansive, albeit simultaneously lapsing into the pseudo Kazakh manglish perpetrated by his faux Kazakh Lothario character, Borat Sagdiyev.

“You think me president more ridiculous than failed builder with orange face and bad wig and wife look like number four prostitute in Kazakhstan? Was easy, piece of peasy,” he laughed.

“Mind you daughter, she more like number two..Mmmmmm good sexy time…” he added, explaining,  sotto voce and for once out of character, that spoofing the Republican Party and most of the US population had actually been embarrassingly easy.

“Vats up…it vos like the more ridiculous I made the character, the more they luffed him – I almost expected to find der whole country masturbating over me,” he minced Germanically, adopting the outrageously camp persona of his Austrian fashionista Bruno.

“Even Sarah Palin…. and zats no larzzing matter,” he winced.

Reverting again to his normal speech Cohen explained that adopting the persona of a deranged orange faced narcissist and playing the role all the way to the White House and through 18 months of cast changes and monumental screw ups had not been easy.

“Imagine if America really was a dictatorship, with rigged elections, where 1% of the of the people have all the nation’s wealth, where I cut taxes to make all my friends richer, ignored the needs of the poor for health care and education and got to torture all the foreign prisoners and migrants…” he spat, morphing seamlessly into the pseudo Middle eastern vernacular of bearded potentate Admiral General Aladeen.

” You could use the media to scare the people into supporting policies that are against their interests, and no one would complain, especially not Sloppy Steve Bannon,” he roared.

“Let’s face it, the surprise is not that no one noticed before, it’s that anyone has noticed at all….other than Vladimir Putin that is …” he winked.

Friends and colleagues of Piers Morgan we’re in a celebratory mood today after he announced his decision to take up permanent residence inside Donald Trump’s colon.

The decision came during the latest fawning television interview during which Morgan climbed deep inside Mr Drumpf, forcing his way upstream passed cement like blocks of constipation formed entirely of cheeseburgers and invested copies of Mein Kampf, and settled into a fold in the ageing totalitarian and alleged Russian stooge.

”It was relatively easy for Piers to climb in,” the lighting rig engineer told LCD Views, “he’s had so much practice. Mr Trump merely sat on him while Piers squatted and made a steeple over his head with his hands.”

Morgan is expected to stay and is trusting Donald Trump’s position as temporary US president will allow him to smuggle the useful British idiot back into America without a visa.

”He said he’s going to change his postal address,” the engineer added, “to something like No. 1 Anus Washington, with a second address listed as a Florida golf course.”

Friends of Mr Morgan have added that not only will Piers finally be living in his natural home, but it will also allow him special access to report on what is said when Trump attends his latest work performance review with his boss, Vladimir Putin.

”He’ll have the inside scoop on what is said,” the engineer added, “and given he is so easily impressed by autocratic men, and will abase himself, Vladimir is expected to be unconcerned when Trump crawls inside him to make Put-Trump-Morg-en. That’s similar to a Turkducken as both the weaker animals are boneless too, but it smells and tastes a lot worse.”

Donald Trump has blasted Brexit, blasted Sadiq Khan, and praised Boris Johnson. He had offended almost the whole country within hours of landing in the UK. Just another bigly successful day in the life. Now he has met Public Enemy Number One.

Mean Mr Marmite had dinner recently with the woman who, incredibly, is still masquerading as the Prime Minister. Theresa May, against what we assume are her better instincts, insists upon hauling the country, kicking and screaming, towards the exit door.

Even the least destructive Brexit will leave virtually all of us worse off. This, surely, qualifies her as an Enemy of The People.

But which People? We don’t mean her cabinet or parliament, or the vermin deliberately shafting the global economy to make a quick buck. We mean the poor deluded folk who want Brexit but have no idea why.

We include those who equally blindly voted Remain, and those who did not vote because they did not understand the issues. These People look to their leaders, the great and the good, for guidance. These People have been let down big time, and our alleged leader bears the responsibility.

Imagine the UK represented by a bath full of water. May has pulled the plug. She sits at the base of the vortex she created as the country goes down the drain. She is sinking rapidly yet still has her head above water. The sands of time are running away with the bathwater.

Half the country is desperately trying to stay afloat. The other half is enjoying the exhilarating ride to oblivion. Nobody in power is even contemplating replacing the plug. Meanwhile the gutter press is quick to blame the plug for our problems.

Can anything else stem the flow? Not the white paper, which contains more holes than a Swiss cheese. Not Trump, who, like his British counterpart Boris Johnson, simply stirs up controversy and muddies the water. 

It is clearly time to throw the big orange man-baby out with the bathwater.

POTUS Maximus Donald Trump is in the UK, but not for an official visit. Trump himself disclosed, via Twitter of course, that he has simply swapped places with Boris Johnson for a few days.

The statement from the Presidential Throne of State (a portable toilet made of pure gold) read thus:

“My good friend and soulmate Boris Johnson has not, as the Rigged Witch Hunt pretends, resigned. FAKE NEWS! He is in the White House. It’s a JOB EXCHANGE, folks! Boris makes a great POTUS, second only to Trump!”

The Orange Inflatable has promised to mimic Johnson’s style and work ethic. He will talk off-the-cuff nonsense and duck out of responsibility.

“I am doing foreign secretary stuff right now!” read another overexcited tweet. “Trump can make bigly US Trade Deals all by himself whatever the CROOKED DEMOCRATS and BITTER LEFTIES say!”

Theresa May, this week’s PM, welcomed the President. “Every Prime Minister needs a Trump,” she said, to a handpicked audience of lickspittles on a remote Scottish island in Scotland. “And every White House needs a Johnson. Donald brings the art of the deal – or no deal – to the table. This government welcomes his subtle and intelligent input.”

The potty POTUS agreed. “I believe that I am the best qualified person in the universe for this job! I am watching what is going on in Europe. It is sooooo simple to fix! Get out. Leave. Cut all ties It’s that simple. A yuge deal with the USA is happening soon. Great!”

LCD Views attempted to reach Boris Johnson by telephone. Expecting the relative calm of the Oval Office, in the background instead we heard what sounded suspiciously like a party involving champagne, lines of cocaine on naked rent boys, and a severed pig’s head. “Sorry, it’s a terrible line old boy,” came Johnson’s voice, and the line went dead.

Every Prime Minister needs a Trump, especially after stockpiling all those baked beans.

There has been controversy for some time surrounding Donald Trump’s imminent first UK visit since assuming office. However, his own latest announcement might be topping them all.

He has now officially announced that he is going to record an album of Beatles songs in time for his arrival on British soil.

“They call The Beatles the Fab Four,” he said when announcing it. “But how fab are they really? They’re not as fab as the Donald. So I see it as my duty to do their songs the way they should have been done in the first place. It’ll be great. You’ll love them.”

Meaning he’s going to change them a bit.

The tracklisting includes “I Want To Hold Your Pussy”, “You Love Me, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah” and “The Long And Winding Wall”.

The actual musical content has yet to be heard by the public, although rumour has it William Shatner is anticipating being let off the hook for his unique interpretation of “Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds” on the grounds that it will no longer be the worst Beatles cover in the known universe.

Interviewed in response to this, Paul McCartney told the assembled press:

“Normally I’m fairly OK with people covering our songs – I know people like to mythologise the whole Beatles catalogue, and yeah, there’s been a few dodgy covers, but there’s been some great ones too, and I’m all for that – The Beatles started out covering rock & roll songs after all. But the thought of this just makes my blood boil.”

Sir Paul will be donating any royalties he receives from this to Amnesty International to help them restore the children imprisoned by Trump to the bosom of their families. His fellow surviving Beatle Ringo Starr has pledged to do the same thing, as have Yoko Ono and Olivia Harrison, the widows of their deceased bandmates.

But the most striking response came in the form of an earthquake. Immediately after Trump made his initial announcement, the ground shook very markedly. Seismologists have traced the origins of the quake to New York, an area not generally known for quakes, but indisputably the epicentre of this one. They were able to trace it more precisely than most, as it turned out that the origin of this quake was the Strawberry Fields Memorial in Central Park, the site where the ashes of John Lennon were scattered.

Copies of ‘A Hard Day’s Tweet’ will be in all good record shops tomorrow.