Any Brit who has spent time in America will have met a Donald Trump. He might take a seat next to you on the Red Eye from Boston to New York wearing one of those suits. Unless your money is so old it has Abraham Lincoln’s fingerprints on it, America is a classless society which means, unlike Britain where the wrong sports coat can mean social death, it is ok to wear golf shoes, a pair of green trousers, a tweed jacket and an orange tie.
‘You from England?” (He heard you speak to the air hostess).
A big, warm, welcoming hand, heavily ringed, is extended.
‘Donald Trump, Trump Realty.’
You glance out the window. An endless queue of identical airliners to yours are taxing into a blinding blizzard. Each has a hundred Donald Trumps aboard, off to sell the American Dream.
A tiny drop of sweat gathers on his temple as the aircraft begins its take off run. A pill is swiftly transferred from breast pocket to mouth.
Then, safe above the clouds, Bourbon in hand, the pitch begins.
Donald is about to sell you a dream. He has spent years studying the art of the sale, he knows all the human weaknesses. By the time your plane touches down in New York, that little cottage on the Nantucket shore is yours, at least in your head.
How, you say to yourself later in downtown New York, contract in hand, could you have swallowed such a preposterous idea? You been been in the hands of the greatest salesman in America. Who else could persuade a whole nation to buy his impossible dream. ‘Make America Great Again.’
An America wracked by racial divisions, an America of preposterous wealth and grinding poverty, an America with its vast internal prison Gulag, an America whose universities have abolished history. An America which will be Spanish speaking by 2050 its English traditions of law and constitution forgotten.
Such weighty matters are not for Trump the Salesman. He is a dealer. He has just bought the investment opportunity of a lifetime, and wants to offer discounts, it explains his reversal on Obama Care. There will be more deals. The visit to Putin, a pathologically vain man, will be a magnificent sales trip. Britain’s anxieties about Brexit will be soothed by the visits of his assistant sales director (United Kingdom) Nigel Farage.
Some things will stay. The Mexican Fence is too good an advertisement – a giant advertising hoarding for ‘Trump’ – not to continue with. Many legally settled Mexican Americans support it and walls are comforting to people who fear being overrun.
Trump’s real problem, already spilling onto the streets, are riots by America’s spoilt generation of entitled brats. They have a different dream, they want martyrs. They want to provoke Donald to call out the National Guard, they want gunfire and bodies in the streets.
Will this be Trump’s ‘Fargo‘ moment, the moment when he breaks and seeks unconstitutional means, arbitrary detention, fire at will ?
In the film a panicked car salesman, unable to close his books, hires criminals to kidnap his wife in the hope that his wealthy father in law will pay her ransom ? It turns out very badly with a leg sticking out of a wood chipper.
If Trump panics he will not make a second term, indeed he may not make it at all.