“During my visit to Great Britain, there was excitement about the event of my visit. They’re calling it “D Day” after my name. Unbelievable pompous circumstance connected with my name over here.
I suggested to Queen-mum that they change it to “T Day” to avoid confusion, because there are so many Donalds but so few Trumps. She just stared at me again. I keep forgetting that she’s speechless and deaf. If she were the queen of America I wouldn’t allow her out of the cellar, but it’s a whole different ball game over here. Which is called “cricket,” by the way. I got a look at the cricket bats that England has been selling them. So sad. So very sad. They look like baseball bats run over by a steam roller.
They showed me the Tower of London. Not impressive at all. They tried to make excuses by saying it’s a thousand years old, but that doesn’t explain why in all this time they haven’t sold a single condo in it. Trump Tower … full up. London Tower … not so much. I told Queen-mum I could have it bulldozed and put up a 90 story residential building with my name on it, but she just looked confused. I told her to have her son Phillip explain it to her, but here he comes again, claiming to be married to the old bat. This is why I never named any of my sons , Phillip. Or Mueller. Don’t get me started.”