On Air Now
In Conversation With Steve Allen 9pm - 10pm
28 January 2018, 01:11
Donald Trump arrived at the gathering of the world's elite like he was recreating Apocalypse Now.
He flew in low out of the rising sun and about a mile out, he put on the music.
In the film of his life, Wagner's Valkyrie would boom out, with lyrics added specially for the incoming storm: me me me me me, me me me me me, me me me ME me, me me me me...
He had never been invited when he was just a “businessman”.
This must have hurt: his face pressed against the glass, always smudging it orange on the outside.
Now he was allowed inside because of an historical mistake in the American voting system.
He lumbered in, sucked the air out of the room and immediately broke into his routine of berating the press (so fake) and crowing about the size of the crowd (biggest ever, I can tell you that, they never had such a big crowd, everybody says so).
He posed with other world leaders, looking like he had no idea or remote interest in who the people on either side of him were.
When they spoke, they remained static. Trump swayed from side to side. He seems incapable of standing still, like a three year old.
It looked like any moment he would grab his tinkle and rush off stage saying he needed a wee-wee.
Theresa May was on child minding duty. Trump had recently seen The Darkest Hour and told the PM that she could be the new Churchill. Maybe he meant she would be driven to drink.
This was the first awkward meeting since Trump threw a strop when Mrs M corrected him about re-tweeting far right nonsense about Muslims.
Trump kept up that gale of verbosity that prevents anyone else in the room from getting any limelight.
Bloomberg News recently reported that, according to current and former UK government officials, Mrs May finds it impossible to get a word in on the few occasions they have spoken by telephone.
Trump simply opens his mouth and the words spew out like water from a garden hose and he leaves the PM less than ten seconds to respond before talking over her and embarking on another self-eulogising monologue.
If you are not talking about Donny, Donny isn’t listening.
The speech he delivered to the gathering at Davos was what they call low-key for this President.
He stuck to the script that someone else had written for him and refrained from extemporising or throwing out free hats.
The “liberal elite fake-news mainstream media” were effusive in their praise. They could not believe that he managed to get through the event without straying from his prepared remarks or declaring war on China or North Korea or Iran or CNN.
They were also mightily disappointed. That is why the crowds at Davos were so large.
They hadn't come to see Bongo out of U2 tell us how to organise the affairs of a music making corporation to achieve maximum tax efficiency and they weren't there for a lesson in I-told-you-so from Tony Blair.
The throng had assembled to watch a giant orange gorilla throw his poop around his cage.
He thought it was an indication of his popularity. Actually, it was an indication that the human race, even the elite ones, have not moved past enjoying Bedlam as an amusement.
Melania was nowhere to be seen.
Her unmoving, granite features had hardened further on being subjected to the endless coverage of Trump's alleged affair and subsequent hush money paid to the porn star Stormy Daniels.
As though to underline what it must be like to be married to the man, the first lady had chosen to visit a holocaust museum at home rather than take a free, five star, VIP trip to a glamorous resort in the Swiss Alps with her husband.