Trump the Great Peacemaker? More Like Turkey Without the Stuffin'

[Lewie London]

So get this, I’m sat in a backstreet boozer last night, tryin’ to enjoy a cold Leo down me gullet and not choke on the fumes from some geezer’s vape cloud that smells like burnt custard, when the telly flashes up “Trump Sends Team to Ukraine-Russia Peace Talks in Turkey.” I nearly spat me pint. Peace talks? With Trump behind the wheel? That’s like lettin’ a Labrador conduct a string quartet.

 

But it gets better. You know what happened? Putin, the party organiser, didn’t even appear. Didn’t even send a life-sized cardboard cutout of his right nut. Left the whole affair lookin’ like a stag do where the groom never turned up. Trump didn’t bother goin’ either, said it weren’t worth it without Putin there. So instead, he sends a couple of his henchmen, probably fresh off a Mar-a-Lago golf cart, to go “negotiate peace” like it’s a timeshare meeting in Marbella.

 

Trump reckons he’s this big-shot dealmaker, right? “I alone can fix it in 24 hours,” he says. Yeah? Couldn’t even get the main player in the room. Can’t call yourself the great peacemaker when the bloke you’re meant to be makin’ peace with treats the whole thing like a wet Tupperware party. Putin’s probably at home watchin’ reruns of Soviet cookin’ shows and laughin’ his arse off.

 

Zelensky shows up, with bells on, all serious, riskin’ lookin’ weak in front of his own lot, hopin’ maybe Trump’s still got some clout. But instead, he ends up posin’ with a couple of Trump’s lads who look like they’re there to repo a yacht. Diplomacy via estate agents.

 

And get this, Russia demanded Ukraine just hand over four regions. Four! Like it’s a game of Charades and they’re stuck tryin’ to mime a bottle of Russian vodka. That’s not peace talks, that’s bloody extortion with better catering.

 

End result? No deal, no Putin, no Trump, no point. Just a sad little table in Istanbul and Trump flyin’ around sayin’ he’ll “chat with Putin directly.” Yeah, I’m sure Vlad’s waitin’ by the blower, mate. Just pop by the Kremlin with a bottle of Irn-Bru and a red cap and it’ll all be sorted.

 

So much for Trump the master peacemaker. Can’t even broker a lunch order off DoorDash, let alone peace in Europe. The only thing he’s ever successfully negotiated is a second scoop of durian flavored ice cream with extra ketchup on-top for himself.

[newbee2022]

58 minutes ago, Lewie London said:

So get this, I’m sat in a backstreet boozer last night, tryin’ to enjoy a cold Leo down me gullet and not choke on the fumes from some geezer’s vape cloud that smells like burnt custard, when the telly flashes up “Trump Sends Team to Ukraine-Russia Peace Talks in Turkey.” I nearly spat me pint. Peace talks? With Trump behind the wheel? That’s like lettin’ a Labrador conduct a string quartet.

 

But it gets better. You know what happened? Putin, the party organiser, didn’t even appear. Didn’t even send a life-sized cardboard cutout of his right nut. Left the whole affair lookin’ like a stag do where the groom never turned up. Trump didn’t bother goin’ either, said it weren’t worth it without Putin there. So instead, he sends a couple of his henchmen, probably fresh off a Mar-a-Lago golf cart, to go “negotiate peace” like it’s a timeshare meeting in Marbella.

 

Trump reckons he’s this big-shot dealmaker, right? “I alone can fix it in 24 hours,” he says. Yeah? Couldn’t even get the main player in the room. Can’t call yourself the great peacemaker when the bloke you’re meant to be makin’ peace with treats the whole thing like a wet Tupperware party. Putin’s probably at home watchin’ reruns of Soviet cookin’ shows and laughin’ his arse off.

 

Zelensky shows up, with bells on, all serious, riskin’ lookin’ weak in front of his own lot, hopin’ maybe Trump’s still got some clout. But instead, he ends up posin’ with a couple of Trump’s lads who look like they’re there to repo a yacht. Diplomacy via estate agents.

 

And get this, Russia demanded Ukraine just hand over four regions. Four! Like it’s a game of Charades and they’re stuck tryin’ to mime a bottle of Russian vodka. That’s not peace talks, that’s bloody extortion with better catering.

 

End result? No deal, no Putin, no Trump, no point. Just a sad little table in Istanbul and Trump flyin’ around sayin’ he’ll “chat with Putin directly.” Yeah, I’m sure Vlad’s waitin’ by the blower, mate. Just pop by the Kremlin with a bottle of Irn-Bru and a red cap and it’ll all be sorted.

 

So much for Trump the master peacemaker. Can’t even broker a lunch order off DoorDash, let alone peace in Europe. The only thing he’s ever successfully negotiated is a second scoop of durian flavored ice cream with extra ketchup on-top for himself.

Haha. Thanks. Very refreshing. More than an icecube on my tongue.

Give this old man a break. He has to take his globe and find out where Turkey is. Just before he got Thanksgiving in his mind. Wasn't it something to eat?? Turkey?

And now to meet there? Where?

He seems to be confused, disorientated, (dement). I'm not sure he can remember what he did or said the day before.

But he's good to give the (dangerous) clown for the world and will give a chuckle to Putin.