Love In A New York High Rise

Surely, it was love at first sight. When they finally met in the penthouse of that luxury tower block in New York City, it seemed the two could never again bear to be apart. But, alas, Nigee – as Donny mischievously called him – needed to return to his British friends at the Club UKIP, in the picturesque south coast village of Humping-on-the-Hillock.

It was the saddest of partings. Catching a few brief moments alone in Donny’s sumptuous bedchamber the two embraced longingly, a tear quickly brushed aside from Nigee’s cheek by Donny’s gentle, if somewhat tiny, fingers. “Will I see you again soon, Donny,” Nigee choked, “I’m not sure I can live without you now.”

Donny raised himself to his full six foot two inches. He glanced down at the slightly balding pate of the lesser man beneath his chin and, summoning his most manly depth of voice, intoned, “I need you, Nigee. I have a plan that’ll bring you back to my side for ever.”

The voice, though deep and masculine, held a noticeable quiver. Nigee heard the tiniest crack, the merest hint of falsetto, as Donny mouthed his name. He clasped tighter to his friend – and in fairness we must refer to Donny as ‘friend’ for we know not how far this affair, this relationship, had progressed beyond – even, perhaps, transgressed – the bounds of mere friendship: that bond between two men who share their love in pure platonic need, or dares to cross the exquisite threshold of boundless, trouser-renting, passion.

“What plan, Donny?”

“Leave it all to me.” No quiver now, no falsetto tremble to betray this parting moment. “Go now,” a playful slap to his friend’s buttocks, “and leave it all to me. You’ll be with me again soon, I promise.”

The flight back to Britain seemed interminable. What could Donny have meant? How could he possibly arrange for them to be together forever? It seemed an impossible situation, but Nigel knew that Donny would somehow keep his word. What they’d shared in their brief time together, those moments of ultimate joy and happiness…

farage-trump

…were sufficient for him to know that Donny wouldn’t let him down now.

Heathrow Airport was always busy and Nigel had to push his way through the throng of travellers to find a taxi. He passed a newstand, paused, then unbelieving snatched a newspaper from atop the pile and knew in that second Donny had kept his word. He would be going back to America. He would soon be feeling those strong arms around him once more. He felt a shiver down his spine recalling Donny’s tiny fingers caressing the nape of his neck. Hardly daring to look again for fear it was illusion, he glanced down at the headline in that morning’s Guardian newspaper:

“Nigel Farage would be great UK ambassador to US, says Donald Trump”[1]

Nigel’s heart leapt in his chest. He was going back to America. He was going to be with Donny. It was all going to be wonderful. Tears of joy filled his eyes as he dashed across the concourse and hailed a taxi. “Take me home,” he shouted at the driver, “And quick! I have to pack.”

But little did Donny and Nigee know that dark spells were afoot. From behind her black door the Wicked Witch of May casts her runes, mixes her potions, and summons all her powers of evil to ensure their love will never flourish.

number-10

“There is no vacancy,” a Downing Street spokesman said when asked about Trump’s remark on Tuesday. “We already have an excellent ambassador to the US.”[2]

Poor Nigee! Is all lost? Has the Wicked Witch of May supplanted Donny’s plans for him and Nigee to be together forever?

We can only hope FERVENTLY that she has!

“Nigel Farage would be great UK ambassador to US, says Donald Trump” Guardian, 22nd November 2016

[2] “Nigel Farage attacks response to Trump ambassador tweet” BBC, 22nd November 2016