The genuine transcript of a telephone call between Donald Trump, President of the USA, and Malcolm Turnbull, Prime Minister of Australia, as discovered by satirist Ben Pobjie.

MALCOLM TURNBULL: Hello, Mr President, it’s Malcolm here.

DONALD TRUMP: Talcum? Is it bath time already?

MT: No, Mr President, it’s Malcolm. Malcolm Turnbull.

DT: Turd what?

MT: Turnbull, sir. I’m the Prime Minister of Australia.

DT: Australia. I know Australia. Down the bottom of the globe. Kind of a loser country. I like countries that are on top.

MT: Mr President, I just called to discuss–

DT: Did you know that in Australia people carry babies in pouches?

MT: I …

DT: Saw it on TV. Little pouches. Can’t afford nannies. Sad!

MT: I think you mean kangaroos, Mr President.

DT: No, not kangaroos, nannies. Who would want to hire a kangaroo? You’re a crazy person. Get me security.

Silence.

DT: Well?

MT: I … I’m sorry, Mr President, I can’t get you security right now, I’m in Australia.

DT: Great country. Beautiful women. Let you do anything. Put your hand in their pouch, anything.

MT. Yes. Mr President, I called to discuss the refugee deal.

DT: Yeah, right. What is their deal? Why would anyone want to be a refugee? Looks like a terrible life to me. Dirty clothes. Sad! A lot of people are refugees, but I’d rather be president. Much more comfortable.

MT: Indeed. What I want to talk about is, your predecessor –

DT: The guy from the urban areas. I remember him. Obamacare. Ruined America. Terrible country, America.

MT: … your predecessor agreed with us that the US would take 1200 of the refugees we have in detention and resettle them in your country. I was calling to make sure that that deal still stands. Are we all good, Mr President?

DT: Wait a minute. Wait a minute. Saddam Obamacare told you we would take your refugees? Why the hell would we want your refugees? We don’t even want our refugees. Do you even read the news? Do you even have Twitter?

MT: Mr President, I understand, but we signed an agreement.

DT: You call me up, and you don’t even mention my election victory — rude! Do you know how much I won the election by? Thousands. Millions. A thousand million. The electoral college gave me a thousand million, and it would’ve been more except Hillary let dead people vote. Can you believe that? Dead people. It’s not bad enough she kills them, she makes them vote.

MT: Mr President, if we could get back to the matter at hand …

DT: Look, Melvin, I don’t know why you would suggest I didn’t win the popular vote.

MT: I never said —

DT: I won the popular vote by millions. If you only count live people. And what I say is, only living people should be American. But here you are wanting to send 2000 dead people over here?

MT: They’re not dead, sir, they’re refugees. They’ve fled their countries of origin.

DT: Why can’t you take them?

MT: We stopped the boats.

DT: What boats?

MT: All the boats. We stopped them.

DT: Why are you talking about boats?

MT: We stopped the boats.

DT: What the hell are you talking about?

MT: Sorry, Mr President, sometimes the training just kicks in involuntarily. As I was saying, we can’t let them settle in Australia, because then other refugees might come here thinking they could be settled in Australia.

DT: But if they settle here, they might come thinking they could be settled in America.

MT: We … we don’t think that will constitute a major incentive, at this time, sir.

DT: Well, look, I don’t want two thousand–

MT: Twelve hundred.

DT: — of your illegal immigrants. What do we get in return?

MT: Uh …

DT: How much are you going to pay us?

MT: Well …

DT: You’re kidding. Do you at least have a present for me?

MT: A present?

DT: Most people give me presents. I’ve been talking to world leaders all day and they all promised me a present. What present have you got for me?

MT: Mr President, I didn’t know I needed to give you a present.

DT: I’m the president, Mickey. You can’t spell president without present. Geez, this is the worst phone call today, by far. By far, Milko. You want me to take 5000 illegal immigrants into my home, and you won’t give me anything, not even one little kangaroo.

MT: Mr President, I just need to know whether we can still rely on the US to honour its agreement, to accept these 1200 —

DT: Twelve thousand? You said it was only 6000. You doubled it?

MT: These twelve hundred refugees, in order to provide a suitable solution for our problem.

DT: I bet they’re Mexicans, aren’t they? Or Muslims. Mexican Muslims. Tricky folk, Mumford. They crawl in under the border and set off bombs, and then who’s left to clean it up, I ask you? I don’t know, but someone must. I think they have people for that. I’m not taking any Mexicans or any Muslims or any journalists. You can forget it.

MT: Mr President, I implore you — 

DT: Speak English, Abdul.

MT: Please, Mr President. Our two nations have an agreement, and I would appreciate it hugely if you would honour it.

DT: And I would appreciate it if I didn’t have to work these long hours. They are killing me, I was up at, I dunno, eight thirty or something this morning. But do you hear me complaining? Do you hear me whining? Do you hear me screaming at my chief of staff that I’m going to miss Yo Gabba Gabba? You don’t hear me do that. Because you’re in Albania or whatever I guess. Too far away.

MT: It’s extremely important, Mr President, for the relationship between our two countries, that this agreement —

DT: Change the record, Mambo. This agreement, this agreement. You signed an agreement with the other guy, Jazzy Jeff. I’m in charge now. You know what’s gonna happen if I say to the country, hey guys, I’m bringing in 20,000 refugees from Australia, with god knows what in their pouches? I’ll be killed, Merkin. Politically, I’ll be killed. Here I am trying to keep Americans safe, and you’re trying to send us the next Boston bombers. Why do you want to do that? Why are you sending us bombers, Mackerel?

MT: I assure you, Mr President, we are not going to —

DT: No, Marty. The answer is no. When you’ve won as many thousands of electoral college votes as me, you’re smart enough to know when a deal is a stinker. I wrote about this in my book. You’re trying to screw me, and I’m not playing, kemosabe. Don’t pee on my leg and tell me it’s a hotel bed. America doesn’t need friends that hide away at the bottom of the globe and then pop up and try to flood our country with Boston bombers. No dice. This is the worst deal ever. Worst deal ever, Madge. Put it back in your pants.

MT: Mr President, with respect —

DT: Fuck off.

Click.

Peter Fray

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