Everything’s a bit up in the air, including your embassy. Not that the fourth floor will impress the Donald, who’s rather more used to skyscrapers, preferably named after Him. There’s a thought. You might suggest Rogers renames the building in His honour. Mind you, the name of your road’s a bit dodgy, unless He retains a sneaking affection for the Kennedy clan. Although hardly as regal as an Onassis, Melania has attributes similar to Ms Munroe’s.
At least the White House is going to live up to its name again. The few colourful figures amongst the Don’s early nominations are just typical aberrations, like the odd woman willing to serve under him. So to speak. While natural in the case of gods, isn’t it amusing that mortals are attracted to elderly rulers? Not that it’ll worry you too much as you expect to retire soon anyway.
Before you go, do have a word in His ear to explain where Mauritius is. As He has a company or two in South Africa, you can explain we’re the few dots between there and Australia. If you can’t get to see Him, you could always send a message on Twitter. You also need to warn Him about our Lindsay, before she sets sail for the Archipelago – if she can still find a boat available in Black River – although a new Chetak helicopter might impress Him more. Friend Raj would be delighted to get back into the cockpit. Still, as He loves reality shows, He may be amused by the spectacle – and welcome the target practice.
By the way, did you ever meet Randy Newman? His song prophesied the dawning of the Trump era: Let’s drop the big one now. However, He may well have bigger fish to fry than little Mauritius – and He’ll need Diego for his foreign policy of nuking anyone He doesn’t like. Your immediate problem, however, is what He might do with His diplomatic service. If He finds intelligence briefings boring and decides to scrap the CIA for claiming Vladimir elected Him, He may not even bother with embassies. After all, with business interests in twenty-five countries, His local managers could handle the odd visa problem.
As your final act, you could try to persuade the Lutch to extend his vision beyond Africa. The Sage has his hands full without wasting more time on an unwinnable cause and, with the Emir declared persona non grata throughout the Middle East, there’s no-one else available to travel. The other ministers are all seeing double. Maybe, just maybe, La Caverne’s banking on a happy New Year to swell the ranks and lighten their loads.
Meanwhile, Zeus has ordered Hermes to issue a red alert – although we’re hoping Greece will be safe as the Donald may decide to buy it in the January sales. Not that we’re counting our chickens as yet, even though they’re salmonella-free. Incidentally, in ancient times, New Year was when outgoing officials were sacrificed to Zeus and Athena. Maybe it’s what He had in mind when He talked about cleaning up Washington – or when He sacked the X Factor. That was nothing to do with Him? Remember 2016 was the year of posttruth or, as we used to call it, lies and a united state of denial. Mount Olympos reckons anyone who survives is going to live in interesting times in 2017, and not just in the South China Seas…