Clown Alley

So this VW Bug pulls up in front of Buckingham Palace and a seemingly endless cavalcade of clowns piles out, all dressed up for the occasion.

King Clown wears a swallow-tail outfit that looks like it came in a very large –  XXXL actually – box of Crackerjacks that was left lying on the floor of a Men's Wearhouse store that had closed for lack of fashion sense. The sleeves extend well below his knuckles and the pants cascade so far over his shoes that it looks like he's standing in a ditch. Or a swamp?

Queen Clown Melania is all rigged out in some kind of straw hat that doesn't prevent her permanent squint from mistaking the palace for Churchill Downs. “Oh, Donald,” she says. “Are we going to see the horsies? Give me your hand. I can't see too well.”

Queen Clown Melania even keeps her straw hat on in Westminster Abbey, which is like wearing a tank top to a wedding. She stays a couple steps behind the Real Queen and King Clown and has to tilt her head back to see anything, which makes it look like she has a permanent stiff neck.

The Clown Daughters make so many costume changes that they could be strippers in a fifties burlesque hall. Princess Ivanka, the highly polished apple of King Clown's also-squinty eye, steals the show with a hat contraption that looks like a wombat has landed on her head. “Daddy,” she says, “We're showing these royals what real style looks like.”

The Clown Sons mostly stand around looking ill-at-ease in formal wear, more or less inarticulate flesh-props for their dressed-to-kill women. Donald Junior looks especially stupid in a beard that looks like it came from a mail order Macho Men catalog. His sister, the delicate Tiffany, yanked out of her law studies, looks dazed by the whole deal. She was pleased, though, that Daddy Clown actually remembered her name on only the second try, calling her “whatchamacallit” the first time around. 

Mark Twain wrote “The Innocents Abroad” and if he were still around would call this Clown Cavalcade something like “Stupid Ill-Dressed Yokels Abroad” with a subtitle of “Jesus Christ! Who let these people leave America for all the world to laugh at?”

King Clown kept his record for fucking up intact by actually touching the Real Queen without her consent and blabbing about his conversation with Prince Charles –or “Charlie,” as Trump kept calling him. Conversations with the royals are to be kept private except when you're King Clown, I guess. 

Last time he was in town, Trump almost tripped Her Majesty. Can you imagine if she had fallen, broken a hip, caught pneumonia, and perished? King Clown would have said, “I never tripped her. Fake News. She was old and crippled to begin with. Why didn't they invite me to the funeral? I sent a lot of flowers, though.”

King Clown didn't see any protests at first, then a little one. He said that the giant Trump Baby Balloon was a left-over dirigible from World War Two. I guess it's hard to see very clearly from an overcrowded VW Bug.