The 2016 election has already proved to be one of the great dramas of the century.
How can Hollywood resist turning a drama into a film? Isn’t that what happens to any celebrated event, whether celebrated as a triumph or as a
It would be a “Hillary” movie, of course..
With Donald Trump cast as the obvious villain?
Perhaps not, if Hollywood gets the chance to assign that role to some guy with a British accent.
So step forward Nigel Farage, the king of Brexit.
He could be introduced in the obligatory “hero walks into a strange bar and local man picks pointless fight with him” scene.
For this purpose, Obama can be the hero, going to London to help the campaign against Brexit.
While handing out leaflets in the street, he notices an Englishman, a Welshman, a Scotsman, and an Irishman. He follows them into a pub, where each of
them will have something to say. However, his attention is distracted from the punchline, because a stranger (Farage) turns on him indignantly; “You
spilled my pint!”
Or perhaps he finds Hillary there, and gallantly rescues her from Nigel’s unwanted attentions. Either way, the fight ends quickly when Obama knocks
out his opponent with a single punch, not giving him time to draw his gun.
This could be followed by the car-chase. Obama and Hillary are being pursued through the Cotswolds by some of Nigel’s most feared henchmen, who are
shouting menacing cries like “Who are yer?” and “Who ate all the pies?”. As they hurtle round a blind corner, they find the road blocked by a
flock of sheep, but Obama swerves desperately along the bumpy grass verge, and manages to avoid them. The chasing car plunges straight into the flock,
flips over, rolls over three times, tumbles into the ditch, and bursts into flames. Another box ticked.
Unfortunately they are both obliged to go back to the States to resume being President and Secretary of State. Without their help, the anti-Brexit
campaign collapses and Farage is victorious.
Then he follows them back to the States to seek revenge for their interference.
He does this by becoming Donald Trump’s evil genius.
It is Farage, of course, who persuades Trump to run for office in the first place.
He becomes Trump’s campaign manager and plunges into controversy from the outset by suggesting the notorious campaign slogan “Wogs begin at Ciudad
Hillary is also personally offended when she learns that Nigel’s briefing nickname for Chelsea Clinton is “Tower Hamlets” (which he explains as
the name of another London borough).
How disrespectful to a Once and Future First Daughter. Not a Safe Space.
Farage responds to mounting criticism by calling in media representatives to a meeting in his office and haranguing them; “None of you have ever
done a proper job in your lives…”.
At the same time, he’s in constant friction with the campaign workers on his own team. He complains that American pints are smaller than real pints,
and that the beer isn’t warm enough.
There’s also scope, though, for episodes of “cultural misunderstanding” humour.
He keeps talking about “red” socialism and “true-blue” conservatism, and nobody can convince him that his colour scheme is the wrong way
round. This plays havoc with his graphics, and the campaign vehicles have to be re-sprayed.
He turns up a month early for one rally, because it was arranged for the ninth of October, and he arrives at the arena on the tenth of September
(“Where is everybody?”).
Dionne Warwick falls into fits of giggles when he calls her “Miss Worrick”, and tells her that he enjoyed her act in “Birming’um, Alabama”.
Once he gets used to American ways, though, he’s diligently pronouncing every letter in all the names. Including the middle “c” in
All these troubles have been eroding Trump’s voter base, which was never very large to begin with.
Hillary seems to be heading for certain victory, especially after she rescues a boatload of orphans in the middle of Hurricane Katrina.
Then disaster strikes. On the very day of the election, Farage pulls off a master-stroke. He sends out an army of aides into Democrat precincts
offering free samples of steak-and-kidney pudding, misleadingly labelled as “cake and Sidney”.
Not having natural immunity to this vile poison, Democrat voters collapse in droves. Even though Hillary goes out in person, giving mouth-to-mouth
resuscitation to a large swathe of Chicago, many of the victims don’t recover in time to reach the polling booths.
So the election is over and Trump has won.
But what about the required happy ending?
There will have to be a surprise twist, and a reconciliation.
Just before Inauguration Day, Hillary is invited to a meeting in Trump Towers.
Though her friends warn her that it won’t be a Safe Space, she finds that Trump greets her with a smile and shakes her hand warmly.
“I told you, Hillary”, he says, “that I would sort out the aliens in this country, and I’m going to start with THAT MAN”.
He jabs an accusing finger towards Nigel Farage, who faints with shock.
As Boris Johnson tries to revive him with a nice cup of tea, Donald explains to Hillary that “making America great again” was always meant to
cover the entire continent, from Baffin Island to Tierra del Fuego. Why should the two leaders not work together on the basis of the Monroe
He invites her to become his Chief of Staff, warning her that she will probably have to do most of the work, because his business interests may still
take up more of his time than he had anticipated.
“I told you I would put you in jail”, he joshes, “and this desk will feel like a jail once the policy papers start coming in. I now sentence you
to four years. Or eight, with good behaviour”.
They embrace (standing up).
Chelsea Clinton and Barron Trump, who are both teenagers, also fall into an embrace (another box ticked).
“Chelsea! At last!”
“Barron! At last!”
“My son, you seem to be displaying signs of triviality”.
“On the contrary, father, I’ve now realized for the first time in my life the vital importance of being a Barron!”
Credits roll, while Beyonce sings “You’ll never walk alone”.
A guaranteed hit on both sides of the Atlantic, especially among the luvvies. Sorry, I mean the acting profession. Nominated for a dozen Oscars. BAFTA
award for “best foreign film”.
Simon Schama calls it the most accurate historical film since Braveheart, or possibly since Mary Poppins.
How can it possibly fail?
edit on 3-12-2016 by DISRAELI because: (no reason given)