
The president, inspecting an otherwise innocuous hedge that is rumoured to run along Canada’s entire southern border.
With Kanye West vacationing in Yeezworld, his Motorola out of battery, and all of his nation’s traditional allies screening the White House’s landline, U.S. President Donald Trump was today forced to seek advice on how to secure a southern border from none other than his arch-nemesis to the north: Canada.
“Get me someone who speaks French and apologies,” the embattled president was heard to shout, from somewhere deep inside a couch fort in the Oval Office. “I heard Canada raised billions and billions and billions of dollars in under two hours to pay for a hedge between us and them. I don’t care why. I just need to know how.”
Widely considered to be the world’s foremost experts on how to grow and maintain a living border – one that doesn’t offend anyone, while only letting through wildlife, refugees, and visiting hockey teams – Canada hasn’t answered a phone call from the crank president since he drunk dialled them in early November to ask if they wanted to become America’s 51st state.
“I sent him through to voice mail,” the northern nation’s Head Of Ominous Skate Sharpening, Justin Trudeau, said through an American interpreter, while not taking his eyes off of a particularly long speed skate that he was putting an especially wicked edge on. “And then listened to him leaving his message through a towel. It still gave me a headache. The man has a voice like the sound of hard work being undone. It makes my teeth hurt.”
Pressed for further details on what Mr. Trump – who polls now show 100 out of every 10 Americans think should have just retired after The Apprentice – had to say, the Canadian leader sighed deeply.
“It was a pretty standard call from Donald,” Trudeau said, picking up a dull hockey skate, a bemused smile free-trading across his face. “There was a lot of swearing, more than one pause to demand another grilled cheese sandwich with no crusts, and it sounded like he was speaking from the inside of a pillow, or a padded cell of some kind.”
The prime minister (an honorary title given out every four years to the person Canadians vote to be the best at figure skating in a suit) went on to describe how the president, desperate for a way to secure his country from the marauding hordes of hard working nation builders trying to migrate into the U.S., had demanded that Trudeau pick up the phone and tell him how to grow a 6400-kilometre long shrubbery.
“Eventually I took the call, in part to ask him what he’d been smoking – and when he was going to make it legal nationwide – and in part to share with Mr. Trump my view that his great nation doesn’t need a wall, or a fence, or a hedge, to keep it safe.”
The PM paused then as – in a flurry of sparks and dramatic keening noises – he finished his sharpening for the day, and quietly laid the final pair of freshly steeled foot sickles down on the bench. Wiping up the metal dust that had collected beneath the grinding wheel, he continued.
“What it needs is to stop electing people who make friends of their enemies. And hedge-growers of their friends.”
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