Chelsea is quintessentially English – actually Anglo-Saxon with a dash of everything else in small or large doses. Regardless, from the time of the great artist Augustus John (1878-1961) till now it has resolutely retained its status as a small big village. Augustus used to strut up and down King’s Road and pat every child he came across on the head. His lecherous explanation was:
“You just never know. He or she may be mine.”
Donald Trump the barman (not the politician) at the Winking Crocodile Pub may not yet be the King of England but he is undisputedly the King of Chelsea. In his more bizarre spells of imagination, he would declare that he is not only the King of Chelsea, King’s Road is named after him. He would promptly turn to his loyal and dutiful wife Janette for confirmation. Her retort was always the same:
“Donald, there you go again. Have another Guiness!”
Anyway, in Chelsea everyone tends to know everybody else.
Hence, it was not surprising that when the retired partners of KPMG who are awaiting their gratuity and pension failed to show up at the Twinkling Crocodile pub (they had breakfast there before setting off for the Cheltenham Horse Racing Festival), Donald was the first to raise the alarm. He did not stop with checking the major hotels where the partners were staying – Dorchester; The Ritz; Claridges and The Savoy. He phoned the Chief Metropolitan Police Commissioner Sir Bernard Hogan-Howe but the police boss was pre-occupied with a major tragedy. His answer phone issued a recorded message:
“Police are hunting a second man who was at the flat where the remains of murdered police officer Gordon Sample was found. The remains were that of the policeman who has been missing for a week. A post-mortem examination was unable to establish a cause of death.”
In desperation, Donald decided to seek the assistance of President Barrack Obama. What informed his choice was the revelation by the fugitive ex-CIA consultant Edward Snowden (who is thought to have fled to Moscow but is actually in hiding at the Winking Crocodile Bar) that with their array of satellites and drones, the President of America and the CIA can locate any missing person anywhere in the world.
When he called the White House, he introduced himself:
“I am Donald Trump and I want to talk to the President about missing persons.”
However, message that was promptly relayed on the hotline to President Barrack Obama was:
“Donald Trump is missing.”
Obama immediately pressed the alarm button:
“The Mexican must have got him.
Maybe we should check with Hilary Clinton if she knows anything about this.”
On the same day, Barack Obama was on Fox News television show, when he was asked if he had any regrets over his tenure in office, his answer was:
“It was our failure to plan for the aftermath of the end of the MuammarGhaddafi regime in Libya.
Mr Obama named the failure to plan for the aftermath of Col Gaddafi’s ousting as Libyan leader, which sparked years of instability that are only just showing signs of easing.
Whether it be pride, a reluctance to show weakness or not wanting to hand opponents ammunition, such admissions do not come easily.
They tend to come out of political necessity, when a president’s term is coming to an end or, safer still, when they are out of office altogether.
Even this apparent display of humility from Mr Obama, given as he considered his legacy, was qualified by his belief the intervention was “the right thing to do”.
When Obama was asked if he had any other regret, he was at his mischievous best:
“When we received a call at the White House that Donald Trump was missing, I should have announced very promptly and firmly that under no circumstances would the American government while I am President pay ransom. We would rather build the wall than pay ransome to kidnappers, rapists or drug traffickers.”
J.K. Randle
