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April 30 2017
From: Her Majesty’s Ambassador in Washington
To: Mr President Brexit

Donald! — or do you still insist on the definite article? — We did it! You in the White House, me as British ambassador. Frankly, it’s the biggest Washington reunion since Sleepless in Seattle! Or is that a different Washington?

I know you’ve spent your first 100 days facing up to the big problem confronting America, the unflattering camera angles on NBC News. Rest assured, the UK ambassador stands shoulder-to-shoulder with you.

Now, over on Massachusetts Avenue, I have been tearing down a bit of the establishment myself. The Embassy was infested. Career diplomats. Policy experts louder than wind turbines. A chef who thought quinoa was a food. A ghastly lady who said she had secret work to do as the third cultural attaché. Gone! Gone! Gone! So today we can celebrate the Embassy’s independence day — or rather we will, once we find someone to do the catering.

You know, [The] Donald, it wasn’t easy to come here. Just imagine — me, a proud Englishman, having to bid a final farewell to my home town of Brussels. But as I said to Theresa May: if there is any way I can serve my country by taking a £175,000-a-year job with free housing, I am prepared to do it. It’s been tough. Last night I was at a drinks reception, telling some rather fine women from the state department about my 50 favourite moments of the Battle of the Somme. At 9:25pm, I went to the loo for a quick loosener. By the time I got back, they’d all gone home! If I’d wanted to be at a party where everyone left before me, I would have stayed in Ukip.

Apparently these women needed — and I quote — to be at work on time the next morning. Isn’t that typical of the old politics? I’m afraid it just goes to show that the elites will stop at nothing to keep running this country.

And that’s not the only problem with Washington. When you said we’d be draining the swamp, I thought it involved serious drinking. No, no, no. I went to one party where they didn’t have any beer at all — only Budweiser! This really is the lie at the heart of the modern global capitalist system. Untold millions must suffer because the big multinationals can’t seem to employ a taste-tester.

One final thing. No one talks about it, except the entire mainstream media. Complete taboo. Immigration. These diplomatic receptions that they force me to go to — they’re full of foreigners! I overheard the Estonian ambassador speaking to his wife, and, do you know, they didn’t speak a word of English.

[The] Donald, think back to those first days after our victory. The joy. The excitement. The entirely normal experience of me waiting uninvited outside your apartment. That wasn’t bad, was it? To be perfectly honest, it’s different now, and not just because White House security say that they really will arrest me next time I sit on the pavement demanding to see you. In fact I haven’t seen you for weeks. I thought I spotted you in the comments section of Breitbart at 3am last Sunday, but you know how hard it is to tell one angry white nationalist from another.

And so I’ve been thinking. Maybe it’s time for a change. A revolution. Shake it all up again. I hear there’s a vacancy to become your ambassador in London. Mrs May has just tweeted that I’d do a great job. And you know what, Mr Brexit — I think I want my country back.


Yours,
Nigel (The English guy!)


P.S. Thank you for sending the bust of Winston Churchill as a welcome gift. I thought we’d discussed relocating it to your office, but I obviously misunderstood.

henry.mance@ft.com

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