Here in Britain, seven long months after the EU referendum, our political class is still humming and hawing about Brexit, after two court hearings. And what about the scrapping of the Human Rights Act that we were promised by the Tories years ago? Plenty of voters will wring their hands at the glacial pace of political change.
What if Trump ran Britain? In the Book of Genesis, God creates the world in six days. What could The Donald do in a week if he were in Downing Street?
Hadrian's Wall rebuilt. Fracking in Islington. Brexit in a week. The BBC forced to bring back Clarkson. As he kicks *** in Washington...What if Trump ran Britain?
Donald Trump has wasted little time since entering the Oval Office on Monday
President has repealed Left-wing laws and scrapped an expensive trade deal
He has dumped political correctness — and even told builders to get a move on with that wall on the United States' border with Mexico
By Quentin Letts For Daily Mail
26 January 2017
What if Trump ran Britain? In the Book of Genesis, God creates the world in six days
Donald Trump has wasted little time since entering the Oval Office. With a flurry of executive orders the new American President has repealed Left-wing laws, scrapped an expensive trade deal, dumped political correctness — and even told builders to get a move on with that wall on the United States' border with Mexico.
He's also moved to ban travellers arriving in the U.S. from 'dangerous' countries such as Iran, Somalia and Yemen.
Mr Speedy! While his liberal critics are aghast, there's no doubting his decisiveness.
Here in Britain, seven long months after the EU referendum, our political class is still humming and hawing about Brexit after two court hearings. And what about the scrapping of the Human Rights Act that we were promised by the Tories years ago? Plenty of voters will wring their hands at the glacial pace of political change.
What if Trump ran Britain? In the Book of Genesis, God creates the world in six days. What could The Donald do in a week if he were in Downing Street?
DAY ONE
Prime Minister Trump, having walked from Buckingham Palace past 'unbelievably large crowds' (the BBC puts the throng at 300), walks through the door of No. 10 Downing Street.
He sees Cabinet Secretary Sir Jeremy Heywood waiting in the lobby, ready to shake his hand. Mr Trump is having none of it. He asks: 'Are you that Heywood wise guy? The big-state Europhile they call Sir Cover-Up?'
A watery-faced Sir Jeremy gulps and replies: 'Yes, that's me, Mr Prime Minister.' Trump: 'You're fired!'
While Melania Trump sashays upstairs to inspect the wardrobe space, the new PM gets down to work. At lunchtime, Government business managers suddenly announce that a vote on Article 50 will be held in the Commons the following day 'without any more c**p'.
Before going to bed, Mr Trump remembers to call Buckingham Palace. Down the line he says, 'Hey, Philip, this is Donald J. Trump.
Just to say that since you're a military man, I hope you'll like my idea about Sgt Blackman — bigly. Watch the headlines tomorrow, Dook.'
At a Downing Street Press conference, Mr Trump refuses to take a question from a writer from The Guardian, saying their journalists are 'among the most dishonest human beings on Earth'.
DAY TWO
A spluttering Mishal Husain, presenting BBC Radio 4's Today programme, can scarcely contain herself as she reads a Downing Street announcement that Sgt Alexander Blackman, the Royal Marine given a life sentence for 'murdering' a Taliban fighter in Afghanistan, has been granted a royal pardon by the Queen.
Downing Street notes that this is one royal prerogative the judges will not be contesting unless they want one helluva fight.
In his first Cabinet meeting later in the morning, Prime Minister Trump executes a raft of measures. Several coal mines are to be reopened, the costs paid from savings made by cancelling any more wind farms. Permission is given to commence fracking in the Corbyn heartlands of London's Islington. The income from the plentiful gas supply will go towards a doubling of the Armed Forces.
Meanwhile, an immediate order is sent to the British passports authority, telling it to remove all mention of the European Union from new passports and to change the colour of them back to blue.
At a Downing Street Press conference, Mr Trump refuses to take a question from a writer from The Guardian, saying their journalists are 'among the most dishonest human beings on Earth'.
In the House of Commons that afternoon, the new prime minister holds (and wins) a snap vote on the motion that Sinn Fein MPs should no longer be paid a parliamentary salary because they refuse to take their seats.
The Article 50 Bill has its first, second and third readings and passes with a heavy majority. We're officially heading out of the EU.
Hundreds of people attend an evening rally at Washington Square Park in support of Muslims, immigrants and against the building of a wall along the Mexican border
DAY THREE
Prime Minister Trump goes on ITV breakfast television to be interviewed by his friend Piers Morgan. He delivers exciting news: Hadrian's Wall is to be rebuilt. Referring to that 2nd-century Roman emperor, Mr Trump says: 'Hadrian? Very, very smart guy. Had the right ideas. We're gonna emulate him.
'I want to make this nation great again, and if that SNP gang want independence, then we'll lock them out of this glorious country.
'My people want me to raise Offa's dyke again, too, on the Welsh border. Maybe. I'm not so big on dykes. But you never know.'
After the interview, Mr Trump's bodyguards have to shield him from an over-excited Lorraine Kelly, who shrieks that she wants to give him 'a kiss — a Glasgow kiss'.
At Prime Minister's Questions, Mr Trump confirms that his government will be proceeding at once with a manifesto commitment to scrap the Human Rights Act. 'Give us a White Paper!' shouts Jeremy Corbyn.
Mr Trump pulls out a sheet of A4, writes on it 'Human Rights Act — we're outta here', folds it into a dart and flies it over to the Labour front bench. The moment leads all the evening news bulletins, and Mr Trump's approval ratings go through the roof (except in Islington, where candlelit vigils are being held as the police battle with chanting mobs of sandal-wearing anti-fracking protesters).
DAY FOUR
The Trump administration is moving fast. The Arts Council's budget from the Culture Department is reduced to farthings. There will be no more state money for modern art baloney at places such as the Tate galleries.
The bejewelled bankers and Establishment grandees who attend the Royal Opera House are informed by a Trump spokesman that 'if you really like listening to fat Italian guys singing in high voices, you can pay the going rate rather than making blue-collar families subsidise your pleasure'.
Further quangos and agencies of the socialist state are obliterated. The Food Standards Authority is told that since the new prime minister loves both toast and roast potatoes, its funding will be withdrawn forthwith.
Children's commissioners are zapped. 'Kids think they're kinda creepy and I think they're Left-wing zealots,' tweets Trump on his new UK-PM Twitter feed.
Staff at the Equality and Human Rights Commission turn up at its offices to find a 'closed for good' sign on the door.
DAY FIVE
A working breakfast at No. 10 with the Director-General of the BBC and senior correspondents descends into chaos.
Here in Britain, seven long months after the EU referendum, our political class is still humming and hawing about Brexit after two court hearings
Mr Trump demands to know why the BBC so often uses kilometres, why its weather forecasts are invariably wrong, why Evan Davis does not wear a tie to present Newsnight, and, generally, why the Beeb is run by 'a bunch of crypto communists so keen to do down the UK'.
The Director-General stomps off along Downing Street, saying he 'wouldn't speak to my Nubian butler like that'.
Evan Davis bursts into tears. Clare Balding is arrested after trying to kick the new PM in the sweetbreads.
Mr Trump, loving the controversy, says every day's broadcasting on BBC1 should end with the national anthem and 'let's bring back Jeremy Clarkson and Top Gear'.
That evening — after a short flight to Berlin on his Trump jet — sees the PM's first meeting with EU leaders and their spouses at a summit dinner. As Mr Trump approaches German Chancellor Angela Merkel, a nation tenses. How — where? — will he greet the scowling Frau Merkel?
In the event, Mr Trump behaves beautifully, shaking her hand — before telling her that her disastrous immigration policy is wrecking her country, and since the old communists knew a thing or two about building walls in Berlin, isn't it time Germany built a wall around the entire length of its borders?
DAY SIX
In a clever piece of brinkmanship, Mr Trump summons both Houses of Parliament to Westminster Hall for an urgent announcement.
He has looked at the nation's finances and realises the Palace of Westminster must immediately be mothballed — it is too expensive a luxury. The Commons and Lords will be asked to move to an industrial estate in Hornchurch, near the eastern end of London Underground's District Line.
Uproar ensues. 'Hornchurch?' gasps Lord Mandelson just before he faints.
George Osborne says he has never heard of the place. The Lib Dems say their noses will bleed if they go that far east. Mr Trump holds out his hands to still the furious ranks of legislators.
'I have a solution,' he says. Silence falls. Mr Trump says: 'I am prepared to rethink this policy if you agree our international aid budget is a crazy waste of money.'
The two Houses of Parliament agree swiftly, and more than £12 billion thus becomes immediately available for greater spending not only on a new Hadrian's Wall, but on social care, the Armed Forces and tax cuts.
DAY SEVEN
And on the seventh day, The Donald rests. He lights a cigar, sits back in his swivel chair — and grins happily as he composes his Twitter response to the inevitable chorus of complaints from the BBC, Gary Lineker, Benedict Cumberbatch, Charlotte Church, Emma Thompson, JK Rowling . . .
Read more: Brexit in a week. What if Trump ran Britain? | Daily Mail Online
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What if Trump ran Britain? In the Book of Genesis, God creates the world in six days. What could The Donald do in a week if he were in Downing Street?
Hadrian's Wall rebuilt. Fracking in Islington. Brexit in a week. The BBC forced to bring back Clarkson. As he kicks *** in Washington...What if Trump ran Britain?
Donald Trump has wasted little time since entering the Oval Office on Monday
President has repealed Left-wing laws and scrapped an expensive trade deal
He has dumped political correctness — and even told builders to get a move on with that wall on the United States' border with Mexico
By Quentin Letts For Daily Mail
26 January 2017
What if Trump ran Britain? In the Book of Genesis, God creates the world in six days
Donald Trump has wasted little time since entering the Oval Office. With a flurry of executive orders the new American President has repealed Left-wing laws, scrapped an expensive trade deal, dumped political correctness — and even told builders to get a move on with that wall on the United States' border with Mexico.
He's also moved to ban travellers arriving in the U.S. from 'dangerous' countries such as Iran, Somalia and Yemen.
Mr Speedy! While his liberal critics are aghast, there's no doubting his decisiveness.
Here in Britain, seven long months after the EU referendum, our political class is still humming and hawing about Brexit after two court hearings. And what about the scrapping of the Human Rights Act that we were promised by the Tories years ago? Plenty of voters will wring their hands at the glacial pace of political change.
What if Trump ran Britain? In the Book of Genesis, God creates the world in six days. What could The Donald do in a week if he were in Downing Street?
DAY ONE
Prime Minister Trump, having walked from Buckingham Palace past 'unbelievably large crowds' (the BBC puts the throng at 300), walks through the door of No. 10 Downing Street.
He sees Cabinet Secretary Sir Jeremy Heywood waiting in the lobby, ready to shake his hand. Mr Trump is having none of it. He asks: 'Are you that Heywood wise guy? The big-state Europhile they call Sir Cover-Up?'
A watery-faced Sir Jeremy gulps and replies: 'Yes, that's me, Mr Prime Minister.' Trump: 'You're fired!'
While Melania Trump sashays upstairs to inspect the wardrobe space, the new PM gets down to work. At lunchtime, Government business managers suddenly announce that a vote on Article 50 will be held in the Commons the following day 'without any more c**p'.
Before going to bed, Mr Trump remembers to call Buckingham Palace. Down the line he says, 'Hey, Philip, this is Donald J. Trump.
Just to say that since you're a military man, I hope you'll like my idea about Sgt Blackman — bigly. Watch the headlines tomorrow, Dook.'
At a Downing Street Press conference, Mr Trump refuses to take a question from a writer from The Guardian, saying their journalists are 'among the most dishonest human beings on Earth'.
DAY TWO
A spluttering Mishal Husain, presenting BBC Radio 4's Today programme, can scarcely contain herself as she reads a Downing Street announcement that Sgt Alexander Blackman, the Royal Marine given a life sentence for 'murdering' a Taliban fighter in Afghanistan, has been granted a royal pardon by the Queen.
Downing Street notes that this is one royal prerogative the judges will not be contesting unless they want one helluva fight.
In his first Cabinet meeting later in the morning, Prime Minister Trump executes a raft of measures. Several coal mines are to be reopened, the costs paid from savings made by cancelling any more wind farms. Permission is given to commence fracking in the Corbyn heartlands of London's Islington. The income from the plentiful gas supply will go towards a doubling of the Armed Forces.
Meanwhile, an immediate order is sent to the British passports authority, telling it to remove all mention of the European Union from new passports and to change the colour of them back to blue.
At a Downing Street Press conference, Mr Trump refuses to take a question from a writer from The Guardian, saying their journalists are 'among the most dishonest human beings on Earth'.
In the House of Commons that afternoon, the new prime minister holds (and wins) a snap vote on the motion that Sinn Fein MPs should no longer be paid a parliamentary salary because they refuse to take their seats.
The Article 50 Bill has its first, second and third readings and passes with a heavy majority. We're officially heading out of the EU.
Hundreds of people attend an evening rally at Washington Square Park in support of Muslims, immigrants and against the building of a wall along the Mexican border
DAY THREE
Prime Minister Trump goes on ITV breakfast television to be interviewed by his friend Piers Morgan. He delivers exciting news: Hadrian's Wall is to be rebuilt. Referring to that 2nd-century Roman emperor, Mr Trump says: 'Hadrian? Very, very smart guy. Had the right ideas. We're gonna emulate him.
'I want to make this nation great again, and if that SNP gang want independence, then we'll lock them out of this glorious country.
'My people want me to raise Offa's dyke again, too, on the Welsh border. Maybe. I'm not so big on dykes. But you never know.'
After the interview, Mr Trump's bodyguards have to shield him from an over-excited Lorraine Kelly, who shrieks that she wants to give him 'a kiss — a Glasgow kiss'.
At Prime Minister's Questions, Mr Trump confirms that his government will be proceeding at once with a manifesto commitment to scrap the Human Rights Act. 'Give us a White Paper!' shouts Jeremy Corbyn.
Mr Trump pulls out a sheet of A4, writes on it 'Human Rights Act — we're outta here', folds it into a dart and flies it over to the Labour front bench. The moment leads all the evening news bulletins, and Mr Trump's approval ratings go through the roof (except in Islington, where candlelit vigils are being held as the police battle with chanting mobs of sandal-wearing anti-fracking protesters).
DAY FOUR
The Trump administration is moving fast. The Arts Council's budget from the Culture Department is reduced to farthings. There will be no more state money for modern art baloney at places such as the Tate galleries.
The bejewelled bankers and Establishment grandees who attend the Royal Opera House are informed by a Trump spokesman that 'if you really like listening to fat Italian guys singing in high voices, you can pay the going rate rather than making blue-collar families subsidise your pleasure'.
Further quangos and agencies of the socialist state are obliterated. The Food Standards Authority is told that since the new prime minister loves both toast and roast potatoes, its funding will be withdrawn forthwith.
Children's commissioners are zapped. 'Kids think they're kinda creepy and I think they're Left-wing zealots,' tweets Trump on his new UK-PM Twitter feed.
Staff at the Equality and Human Rights Commission turn up at its offices to find a 'closed for good' sign on the door.
DAY FIVE
A working breakfast at No. 10 with the Director-General of the BBC and senior correspondents descends into chaos.
Here in Britain, seven long months after the EU referendum, our political class is still humming and hawing about Brexit after two court hearings
Mr Trump demands to know why the BBC so often uses kilometres, why its weather forecasts are invariably wrong, why Evan Davis does not wear a tie to present Newsnight, and, generally, why the Beeb is run by 'a bunch of crypto communists so keen to do down the UK'.
The Director-General stomps off along Downing Street, saying he 'wouldn't speak to my Nubian butler like that'.
Evan Davis bursts into tears. Clare Balding is arrested after trying to kick the new PM in the sweetbreads.
Mr Trump, loving the controversy, says every day's broadcasting on BBC1 should end with the national anthem and 'let's bring back Jeremy Clarkson and Top Gear'.
That evening — after a short flight to Berlin on his Trump jet — sees the PM's first meeting with EU leaders and their spouses at a summit dinner. As Mr Trump approaches German Chancellor Angela Merkel, a nation tenses. How — where? — will he greet the scowling Frau Merkel?
In the event, Mr Trump behaves beautifully, shaking her hand — before telling her that her disastrous immigration policy is wrecking her country, and since the old communists knew a thing or two about building walls in Berlin, isn't it time Germany built a wall around the entire length of its borders?
DAY SIX
In a clever piece of brinkmanship, Mr Trump summons both Houses of Parliament to Westminster Hall for an urgent announcement.
He has looked at the nation's finances and realises the Palace of Westminster must immediately be mothballed — it is too expensive a luxury. The Commons and Lords will be asked to move to an industrial estate in Hornchurch, near the eastern end of London Underground's District Line.
Uproar ensues. 'Hornchurch?' gasps Lord Mandelson just before he faints.
George Osborne says he has never heard of the place. The Lib Dems say their noses will bleed if they go that far east. Mr Trump holds out his hands to still the furious ranks of legislators.
'I have a solution,' he says. Silence falls. Mr Trump says: 'I am prepared to rethink this policy if you agree our international aid budget is a crazy waste of money.'
The two Houses of Parliament agree swiftly, and more than £12 billion thus becomes immediately available for greater spending not only on a new Hadrian's Wall, but on social care, the Armed Forces and tax cuts.
DAY SEVEN
And on the seventh day, The Donald rests. He lights a cigar, sits back in his swivel chair — and grins happily as he composes his Twitter response to the inevitable chorus of complaints from the BBC, Gary Lineker, Benedict Cumberbatch, Charlotte Church, Emma Thompson, JK Rowling . . .
Read more: Brexit in a week. What if Trump ran Britain? | Daily Mail Online
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