It was tomorrow. Or today if you are reading this on Friday. Or yesterday. Or forever.

The whole nation held its breath and the world watched in terror. The Trumpettes raised their legs in a head-high salute as Mr Toad stepped up to take the Oath, flanked by Mole on one side and spouse Tirana Deville on the other. (Tirana incidentally was thrusting out her assets in a desperate attempt to get her beloved sugardaddy’s eye away from ogling the Trumpettes.) Before him, his army of 20,000 brownshirted Disposables adored every word. “I solelmly swear”, (sic), he orated, squinted myopically at the Teleprompt, “that I shall fatefully execute anyone who opposes me as President of the United States…” He paused, briefly using his Threat Look Number 4 directed at the Press, “and will to the breast of my ability perve, project and defer the Constitution of the United States, so help you God!”

“Hurray hurray,” cried the Disposables, some fainting with utter delight as they envisaged the fulfilment of their greatest dream: to become Toad’s Apprentice and to loll in money all their lives. After all, hadn’t the Toad told them that he would fire all the Mexicans and Muslims and have them walled up, so they couldn’t EVER be his Apprentice? As well as blacks and gays, of course (though he did say he may let blacks marry gays if they were very very good). And hadn’t he said he would eat all the Greens and the entire climate, so that steak would be on every table and a seven litre Ford Mustang made in Detroit would be in every yard? Hadn’t he promised that they would all be forever healthy by destroying their need for healthcare? And hadn’t he promised to put every abortionate woman in prison at the mercy of horny Disposables – as would every woman and her cat be, of course. Except for Tirana, until he had finished with her.

Harumphing importantly, Toad stepped to the vast array of microphones. The world held its breath.

“I have promised to make Ameriga grape again,” he said, taking a huge gulp of Argentinian Merlot, “and grape it will be, especially for meeeeee! Oh, and them of course.” He gestured to his massive family who were standing adoringly behind him, holding British, Chinese and Israeli flags. The British one was defaced with the holy words BREXIT ROOLS in capital letters. The Chinese with the word DEFEATED and the Israeli one with SETTLEMENTS NOT SETTLEMENT.

“So all of you are DYING to know what me and my Weasels are going to be doing!” He pointed to his Cabinet appointees who were standing in a long gurning line behind the First Family: Brexxon-Mobile in charge of destroying the environment, Steve Munchkin Hedge Fund promoter, in charge of destroying the economy; Mick Pompeii, in charge of eruptions and destroying all races but one by torturing them; Jessie James Sex Sessions, in charge of destroying the Constitution; Bob Lightsaber in charge of starting wars with China, Andy Puzzler in charge of destroying the unions, Tommy Priceless Health Monetiser, in charge of blackmailing the public into paying megabucks for healthcare; Pick Merry Climate Destruction Specialist, and Vladimir Putin amongst other Weasels and monsters.

“And you will! But don’t hold your bereath! OR Mine! Because you know what?” He opened his arms in his famous ‘I love you’ gesture, “I don’t give a fuck! If you want to know what’s next, fuck you. You got Twitter? You check that. You check that every day. And if you don’t like it….” He raised one stubby finger into the air, “well you can SIT on it!” He turned to the lead Trumpette who stood adoringly before him with her left breast bared, “especially you, darling!” and he set off in his Toadmobile for the building he had been referring to as the Black House for eight years.

Image: In the absence of Photoshop, I had to use a real photograph of the President-elect.