Donald Trump’s EuroTrip: Here’s How He’s Making Europe Great Again


Written by Jake Moss
03 Monday 03rd July 2017

Donald Trump, AKA The Donald, AKA The Man with the Best Words, is on his way to Europe for the road-trip of a lifetime. But what can we expect from the most explosive president since the back of Abe Lincoln’s head? It’s time to buckle your seat-belts, fix your rearview mirror and clutch your rosary beads in prayer, as we embark on Donald Trump’s EuroTrip 2017: Part One - An Assault on Poland.


Warsaw Airport, 3pm




“Europe! Finally, I’m away from the FRAUDULENT NEWS MEDIA and the MEXICANS. It’s about time!”


Trump bangs excitedly on the back of Mike Pence’s head-rest, as Air Force One touches down in Warsaw. Pence wakes up with a start. As the awful reality of where he is seeps back in, he rolls his eyes and gets up to fetch his hand luggage from the overhead compartment. As he opens it, three condoms full of milk fall out and burst on his head, splattering a mixture of dairy detritus and spermicidal lube all down his suit. “Haha, got him! Classic TRUMP-KUSHNER HIJINKS. Too bad, Pence!” Trump high-fives Jared Kushner with his tiny child’s hand. Kushner smirks at Pence; twenty mini long-life milk pots lie empty next to him. Pence sighs and pops a valium; this is going to be a long trip.


Warsaw Conference Centre, 6pm


“Thanks a lot, Warsaw - you’ve been great! Make Poland great again! U S A! U S A!” Trump drops the mic and comes off the stage to light applause. “Ha, what a bunch of POLISH IDIOTS. Alright boys, that’s enough politics. Where’s the PARTY at?” His entourage whoop, holler and punch the air. “Donald, we have to leave for Germany in the morning. Maybe we should just have a relaxing evening in?” utters Pence. “FAKE NEWS, Pence! Too bad!” shouts Trump, giving him a noogie, as Pence is lifted up by the whole gang of political bros and carried out the back of the conference centre.


“U S A! U S A! U S A!” The chant dissolves into the humid Warsaw evening.


Hotel Bar, 11pm


Sat at the bar, Trump prepares to do a shot with the rest of his cronies, the shot looking like a pint-glass in his hand. They knock them back. “Tequila?” suggests one of the gang. Everyone goes quiet. “Not in MY America,” mutters Trump. At that moment, Kushner comes round the corner with a smug grin on his face. Trump turns to him with urgency: “Did you deal with SAD KILLJOY Mike Pence?” “Don’t worry, chief. Let’s just say he’s feeling a lot more chilled out about the situation now,” Kushner shakes the pot of valium, “Slipped a few of these in his coco. He’s gonna be reeeeaaal relaxed now.” Another chant of “U S A!” breaks out among the high-fives.


“Come on boys,” yells Trump, “Tonight, we MARCH ON WARSAW! #TrumpOnTour”


Warsaw City Centre, 2am


Carnage on the streets. Trump and his gang are painting the town red, white and blue. They whirl through the city, leaving destruction in their wake, snarling and shouting patriotic slogans at whoever they meet - stag dos go quiet, as large men from Doncaster forced to wear pink fairy wings by their banterous mates quake with fear.


At the back of a seedy bar, a stripper is sat on Steve Bannon’s lap, as Rex Tillerson gives a go-go dancer a lecture about oil prices. Trump puffs out his cheeks. “I’m bored and AROUSED. Where are all the #LOCALPROSTITUTES?” A tall, blonde woman dressed all in black sits down next to him at the bar. She smiles, “You must be Mr Donald. My name is Karolina.” Trump smiles back, “Nice to meet you, Karolina. You must be a local prostitute. Great news!”


Hotel Room, 3am


 cc: Popbitch

A trashed hotel room. The crack of a whip. Trump lies handcuffed to the bed, naked but for a large adult nappy. “I’ve been a very naughty boy, Karolina. The naughtiest IN THE WORLD. And I deserve to be punished. Bigly.” Karolina cracks the whip again. “Yes, Mr Donald. You are bad boy. Very bad boy. And terrible president. Very bad president. The worst. No real policies. Only rhetoric.” “Is this UNNECESSARY CRITICISM part of the dominatrix service? Do not listen to their lies!” Karolina looks confused, “Whose lies?”


“Come closer, Karolina. It’s too difficult to URINATE ON YOU from here.” She tries to hide her look of disgust and slams the whip down on him. “Ow, not so hard, IDIOT. Hey, are you listening to me? Sad!” “No! You listen to me: what is code for safe?” Trump looks confused. She whips him again. “What is code for safe, orange fool?!” “Ow, Karolina stop! Pumpernickel! Pumpernickel!” She whips him again. “I do not care about stupid safe-word! What is code?!” “Mike! Mike, help!” But in the hotel room next door, Mike Pence is sound asleep in a hot coco and valium haze. Karolina whips Trump again and he squeals, “Ow! 1776! The code’s 1776!” Karolina rolls her eyes and hurries over to the safe. The code works - she empties its contents into her bag. Before she rushes out the room, she ruffles his hair, as he writhes in fury. She slams the door. “Come back! I’ll find you! You told me your name, psycho Karolina! Too bad! #UNINTELLIGENTPROSTITUTE”


Trump shouts and shouts, but no-one can hear him. He lies there weeping, his tiny hands not quite small enough to slip free from the handcuffs and fix his comb-over. What’s he meant to do now? What if Putin finds out about this? And why does he have such bad taste in Eastern European prostitutes? So many questions and so very, very few answers.


Will Trump escape his handcuffs in time to attend the G20 Summit in Hamburg? Will Mike Pence wake up? Will Rex Tillerson ever stop lecturing exotic dancers about oil prices? Find out later this week in part 2 of Trump’s EuroTrip…


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