#169 In which we have met the enemy, and he is anyone who isn’t us

After sending the troops to war-torn Memphis (in Tennessee, not ancient Egypt, although with the man of wealth and taste, anything is possible), the American king has made his way to visit the British king on good old English soil. Actually, it’s mostly good old Windsor soil, as the Brits are planning on keeping His Majesty (Donald, not Charles) as under wraps as possible, and are wary of parading him out in public. But there will still be parading. A royal salute will be fired from the east lawn of Windsor Castle to mark the Trumps’ arrival, there will be a carriage procession on the Windsor estate, an inspection of the honor guard, a wreath-laying at the tomb of Elizabeth II, and even a fly-over of F-35 fighter jets and Red Arrow acrobatic planes. 

At their formal lunch, we understand that HRH C3 is bringing index cards with the warnings not to mention climate change, Ukraine, or scalawag younger brother Andrew’s relationship with a certain Mr. Epstein. On the other hand, HRH DJT never heeds warnings to keep his trap shut, so God only knows what news will be shortly forthcoming from the British countryside.