These days, happily, I never go to London. The last time I was there wandering around the supposedly 'glamorous' West End I thought, what a dump! Tatty, grey, untidy, full of grotty little cafes and crowded with the dreaded 'Peeps'. The only good thing was the trains were actually running so eventually "I made my excuses and left"*. This morning, 'the Donald' has made it abundantly clear that he doesn't want to visit either and I would like to take this opportunity, on behalf of all 'the Peeps' who are forced to work there, to express our gratitude.
Alas, the only certain outcome of a visit by 'the Gingah Ninjah' would be the biggest riot in London's history. All the brain-dead, knuckle-draggers would emerge from their Marxist communes and all hell would be let loose. Now what with train strikes and terrorist attacks and endless road works, working in London is a hellish business at the best of times. If you add to it every 'Corbynista' troglodyte in the country making for London with venom in what passes for their brains, the results do not bear contemplation. So thank you, Mr. President, and by the way, as I told you earlier, your new embassy is a joke that makes Battersea Power Station look rather charming!
*For the benefit of both my foreign and younger readers I should explain my frequent use of the expression "I made my excuses and left". This harks back to the, er, good old days of 'The News of the World', Britain's premier scandal sheet which was, of course, known universally as 'The Screws of the World'. It's intrepid reporters would use every trick in the book to interview naughty ladies privately in order to discover the names of their clients, at which point they would raise their hats politely, say thank you and insist in their story that "I made my excuses and left". Of course you did, darling, we all believed you!