Reflections of the First Lady: inside Melania Trump's Diary (pt.2)

Nick Curtis take a satirical look into the diary of Melania Trump...

Saturday 21 April

I am so happy to be in Texas! Houston in spring very much like Ljubljana in my homeland Slovenia, only vith bigger hats and more fat people. Normally I am haff to look sad, as office of First Lady is so solemn — and is not that hard for me to be honest — but here sun is shining and I cannot stop smiling.

Of course, reason I am here is also very sad because “zat old bag Barbara Bush” — as Donald call her — has die. She voss 92 years old, which in my country vould be a miracle. But Donald say Bush family not age so fast as everyone else because their brains move slower. Then he laugh, high-five himself, and go for 12th cheeseburger in front of Fox and Friends. I think maybe Donald not make 92, votever his doctor say.

He iss not here of course. Iss bad blood with Bush family since Donald beat Jeb Bush in primary and call him “sad sack”, “total stiff”, “spoiled child” and “not a man”. Jeb say last month, “at least my children love me”, and then Dumb and Dumber, I mean Donny Jr and Little Eric, pile in online and say “we love our daddy very much and he President, not like you, loser”. Is a shame nobody vith influence in Vhite House iss launching anti-online-bullying campaign to stop ziss nastiness.

Still, I think iss not polite of Donald to go golfing at Mar-a-Lago instead of attend funeral. It lack respect.

Before the funeral, Michelle Obama come over and say thank you for the picture frame I give her at inauguration. Bill Clinton come over to give me big hug until Hillary tackle him to the ground, and I notice George W push George HW away from me in wheelchair. I am wearing respectful four-inch funeral patent heels and also sober black dress from Comey and McCabe that barely show any cleavage and only four inches above knee, like fashion model I once was (and not someone who take pants off for GQ, well, not often).

At funeral I sit next to Barack Obama and he tell me very naughty joke too risky to even put in diary, but it involve Donald and size of his hands, and I laugh and laugh. He is very attractive man, but devoted to his wife, whereas… Anyway, I am still laughing and so happy when I walk out of Episcopal Church and see billboard which say: “Next Week, see Stormy Daniels’ reveal all in her Make America Horny Again Tour at Bucks Wild Gentlemen’s Clubs in Dallas and Fort Worth — just like the President, you’ll have a spankin’ good time!”

I stop laughing.

Sunday 22 April

I fly back to Vashington and OF COURSE Donald is not at airport to meet me and OF COURSE he is not at the door, so I kick off my heels and vander through empty rooms until I find him in his den enjoying “executive time”. By vhich I mean he is vatching Fox news and tweeting about Korea and the Vall Street Journal and collusion and Vitch Hunts.

“Remember, Donald, Emmanuel is coming tomorrow,” I say.

“Oh yeah, I love that movie,” he reply. He not even look up.

Monday 23 April

I spend the morning vith my and Donald’s little prince, our son Barron, who hardly ever make objects fly off the walls now, or turn the floor of the Lincoln bedroom into a yawning pit of hell. I see he is doing his homework and ruffle his hair and his eyes briefly glow a dull red.

Then it is time to vatch security footage of the Macrons landing at Joint Base Andrews. Brigitte look so chic in her pink jacket and Emmanuel so suave. He address the crowd in English and French and I feel a pang in my heart that Donald only speak English, and just barely zat. I speak four languages, and I are perfect in every vun.

The Macrons valk around downtown and visit Lincoln Monument and I know by now Donald vould be demanding a golf cart and bucket of Coke. Suddenly it is 5pm and they are here and it is all smiles and kissy kissy.

“Hey Manny, we’re gonna go on a helicopter ride!” says Donald.

“Supercool! Fantastique!” says Emmanuel.

“It is hard having a husband who is so much a child,” says Brigitte.

“It must be,” I reply.

“I meant you,” she says.

Tuesday 24 April

A tree? Tristo kosmatih medvedov*, a tree?? Vot about some nice Chanel jewellery or some cognac — Donald doesn’t drink but some of us haff to get through the day — or an Eiffel Tower snowglobe prekleto**!

But they have brought a tree. So ve all troop out to the Vhite House lawn and Donald and Emmanuel start digging vith shovels and bossing each other around. I stand back vith Brigitte as I don’t vant to get dirt on my Agent Novichok outfit from their Sexy University Don collection.

“Such amateurs,” says Brigitte.

“Us?” I say.

“Both of them,” she replies.

Anyvay, I am furious. For three months I haff been planning for this evening, my first Vhite House State Dinner. Kellyanne Conway say, use caterers like every other first lady, and Donald say, just get 183 big family KFC bucket from Deliveroo but I say no, and me and my East Ving staff prepare great French-American-Slovenian feast.

Ve haff Zlikrofi*** vith foie gras and Twinkies. Jota**** vith camembert and waffles. Strukliji***** vith oysters and Ben and Jerry’s Phish Phood ice cream (vun scoop for everyone else, two for Donald).

Donald not even notice. He not notice my traditional Slovenian table decorations. He just shout at Macron about Iran and then try and be his best friend all day, brush dandruff off his shoulder then say “he is perfect”!

But this evening, ven I am in FABULOUS white Michael Kors suit and Hervé Pierre hat that look like HALO, making Brigitte look FRUMPY AND OLD, Donald notice.

He try to hold my hand but I resist. He try again and I resist. Finally he mutter: “House of Cards scenario!” and I take his little hand.

At dinner he call me “America’s absolutely incredible First Lady” and say it is an evening “we will always cherish and remember”.

Oh ja******.

* literally, “Three-hundred hairy bears”, or more colloquially, “bloody hell”.

** “dammit”.

*** dumplings

**** a stew of sour cabbage and beans

***** filo puddings

****** oh yes

Wednesday 25 April

Emanuel address Congress and Donald not seem to notice he is criticising ALL of Donald’s policies. Later Emanuel and Brigitte leave. Is emotional. Donald and Emanuel hug like schoolboys. Brigitte shake hands vith me.

“So nice to haff someone stylish and smart to look up to,” I say.

“Thank you,” she say.

“I meant me,” I reply.

Thursday 26 April

After breakfast Donald go to private quarters for “executive time” and I go to Barron and tell him about Daddy’s House of Cards promise, inspired by popular TV programme where woman takes place of man accused of sexual harassment. Plan is, in 2020, Donald stand down in favour of me. Yes, is unconstitutional for Slovenian girl, who was sometimes but not often glamour model, to become President. But Donald already p*** all over everything else in America. I serve two terms. Then in 2028 Barron become youngest-ever US president aged 22 and prophecy is fulfilled. Barron is quiet, but his eyes glow briefly red.