Philip Hughes and the Junior Apprentice Genie

Philip Hughes was utterly lost. He'd wandered off in search of a bathroom more than half an hour ago, but after a few wrong turns he now inexplicably found himself in the middle of a cave. The cave was piled high with golden valuables of a suspiciously Arabic nature. Aware that he moved with the deft poise of a drunken elephant, Phil carefully tip-toed a path through the precariously stacked stash.

"I may have committed some light treason": Trumpested Development

They say that tragedy plus time equals comedy. To give credit where it's due, President Trump has managed to shorten that time to mere seconds. From one gloriously disastrous fuck-up to the next, the Trump administration seems as terrifying as it is incompetent. This was perhaps best summed up online as:

House of Cards + Arrested Development = Trump Administration

And it got me thinking- if that's true, then who's who? Let's find out.

The Leaky Airplane

I first noticed something was wrong moments after takeoff when the gentleman across the aisle from me extended his arm into the gangway, with his palm facing upwards. The man in front of him was similarly puzzled by something overhead. I too looked up, and noticed what can only be described as a steady trickle of water flowing from an air conditioning vent. It appeared to be causing a nearby light to flicker like a prop in a cheap horror movie. My knowledge of aeronautical engineering is admittedly limited, but I felt fairly certain of one thing: it should not be raining inside of an airplane. Unable to move from our seats, there was little we could do as the plane rose steadily towards the darkened rainclouds.

Asia Hotel

As the rickety lift doors opened, I stepped out into the lobby. It was clad in grey, leaden marble, spruced with artificial flowers, and smelled of the 1980's; a musty mix of Reagonomics and aerosols since banned for environmental reasons. In the restaurant space where I had earlier eaten an attempt at a buffet breakfast, a Thai Elvis impersonator was gamely crooning for a dozen or so largely disinterested Chinese tourists.

I emerged outside into the humid evening, strolling through the waiting taxis in the road and dodging the carefree motorcycle taxis bombing down the pavement. I entered the compact 7/11. It was starkly lit and chilled, like the inside of an oversized refrigerator. A hunchbacked man bought Red Bulls, while tourists dawdled dazedly at the counter.

Stepping back outside into the steamy evening, a steady convoy of taxis passed, a blurring rotoscope of yellow, green, blue, pink. Somebody had bought some grilled pork from a street vendor and dropped it on the pavement for the grateful neighbourhood cats. Some wrestles with chunks of the hot meat, whilst one of the more timid felines slinked to a gap under a concrete base for shelter. A foreign tourist tripped on the uneven concrete.

Returning to the hotel, Elvis was still gamely working his audience. In one of the small shops at the back of the lobby, a middle aged shopkeeper was completing her daily aerobics routine. Briefly tempted to settle in at the rather tired if optimistic hotel bar or perhaps frequent the deserted Brazilian restaurant on the mezzanine level, I instead decided to turn in for the evening and headed for the lifts marked "Low Rise: Floors 1-11 Only".

Interim World President Hughes vs. Professor Mayhem

2047, Earth Federal Headquarters

[INT, DAY. AN EXPLOSION RIPS A HOLE IN THE WALL, AND AN IMPOSING FIGURE ENTERS THE ROOM THROUGH SMOKE] P.M.: "It is I, Professor Mayhem! Your reign has come to an end, Interim World President Hughes! Soon the entire planet will bend to my will!" P.H.: "Thank fuck for that" P.M.: "Haha! I knew...wait what"