Enda, Buddy, I have weedkiller for that stuff in the bowl.
Ah no, your majesty, that’s shamrock.
Is it contagious? I don’t want any immigrant weeds getting into the U.S.
Not atall, Mister President.
So what do you want me to do with it?
Enda, did you see me on the TV holding Theresa’s hand?
No groping her by the p… The media are liars.
Terrible liars altogether.
What are the media saying about me in Ireland?
Oh they’re saying that you’re great craic.
As in mighty.
Mighty is good.
So what do you want of me, Mister T-Shite?
I was thinking so I was – well now, Master Trump, if you would consider having Ireland as a member state of the U.S.A. We’d be hugely and tremendously privileged.
I mean, tell me more, Enda.
Ah we’d love to have the dollar as our currency and your warships out on Spike Island and I’d have the people adopt American English as our national language. And what’s more, Mister President, we have lasses dancing at every crossroads and sure never mind Shannon Airport, you’d have Knock and Dublin too.
Well, that is certainly food for thought, Mister Enda.
The north of the country could be a problem, but sure you can do a Putin and take it over.
I could, I could.
Let me think on it. I could build a wall?
Anywhere you like, I have just the place you could wall up – out whest, in Mayo. Loads of fucking Mexicans there.
You must excuse me, Mister T-Shite. I have to meet with Mrs Merkel.
Oh ho now. Watch her, she has Ireland by the balls.