Try not to Cry, but it’s only just beginning.

…and the world was just one, huge confusion.

I know that it has been a while, and I’m sure it is purely down to the fact that 2017 has dawned and life is just completely bemused about everything. Everything down to the last, minuscule blog post that happens to be forgotten about.

Here are some details that I think may be needed to be addressed for the commencement of 2017:

Donald Trump is going to begin leading the United States on January 20th. The office will get painted in fake tan, as his little-girl cheerleading minions will sing his praises as if he was the omnipotence of the world. His red tie and blue blazer will again be incongruous to his disgustingly bright blonde hair as he takes the chair in the White House. And if this is not enough – Donald Trump just simply being himself – the citizens of the United States of America will be persecuted for being themselves: the women will become Barbie dolls, the disabled will become talking wheelchairs, the Mexicans will all have scraped knees from trying to climb that wall that Trump so anxiously  wanted to build – the Mexicans will also have their money flowing from their pockets with each step up the wall, as, of course, they will be paying for their barricade.

And, apologies for being brief, but nothing else is going to happen this year due to Trump’s inevitable assassination of the world, where it will implode and explode at the same time – did anyone else think that was impossible? Well, we didn’t think Donald Trump would ever get elected, but we were wrong there.  If the world did not end in 2012, it is because it was just begging the population of the world to wait another five years so that Trump can end it for us.

Who else can wait thirteen miserable days for his seat in office? I know I will be sitting with a sea in between Trump and I, but I think – no, I know – I will be able to smell the stench of his freshly-applied fake tan on January 20th as he waltzes into the White House like one giant Cheese Puff.

The world was NOT designed for this kind of trauma. Did God not intend for the world to be beautiful with seas and skies and natural formations that did not make skin orange and hair yellow? Oh dear, did we believe that the world was supposed to be pleasant? I should’ve washed my hair of that view a long time ago so that I could be a source of unnatural chemicals being pumped into my body, nightly.

I know that Trump’s appearance is iconic. The hair, the skin, the fact that he darkens a room when he walks into it; but what right does he have to be the leader of a continent when he cannot even avoid looking like an Oompa Loompa? I cannot even begin to understand why more than 50% of the United States’ population thought that being led by an orange man would be a good thing?

Now, with a farewell to the disastrous 2016 – with the avoidance to be the cliché ‘I want a clean slate’ imbecile – I am delighted to welcome in the murky fog that January always brings, the lack of snow, and the fact that I am going to turn into a Barbie doll when Trump takes office in the unlucky number of THIRTEEN DAYS.

I have just recently bought my bleach, blonde hair dye, fake tan that TOWIE famously use, and a gorgeous red tie (or, as some people call it, a noose) for Trump’s glorious disaster. Have you claimed your essentials yet, for the next four years? Unlimited supplies, and everything? I forebode the next four years to either make the world a sea of mini Trumps, or we will watch from hell the Earth will just be smashed into smithereens on the floor of all flaws.

Happy New Year, you lucky, bound-to-become, Oompa Loompas.


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