Thank God my fake news spin unit got found out, it was soooo restrictive. I felt like I was in the closet again. I feel like I could do anything now. Scream, shout, spin, do the splits, shoot myself in the foot. Anything goes. It’s just Leo now, the pure unadulterated me. Watch this space.
What a Paddy’s Day it has been! (NOT GERRY ADAMS DAY ta very much). My first visit to the White House, my first shamrock plant – its beauty is matched only by Matt – and (not) my first diplomatic gaffe. Let me just ask; is Doonbeg really this important to anyone? Haven’t I just given it some publicity that it very desperately needed? Did anyone really know where in our emerald isle it was? So I interfered in the planning process – who cares!?! Windmills are ugly and white (unlike me) and more importantly, you can’t play golf on them. If we ever want Rory McIlry to get back to the top we need to give him the tools for the job. A Donald Trump international golf course is what he needed to put a swagger and a bounce back into his British (oops) curls. It was a selfless gesture.
Everyone wants to take advantage of my sense of humour. Take Michéal, that’s the second funny anecdote that he’s attacked me for (though I bet he laughed, how could he not?). And the Clare County Councillors? Bah! What a load of layabouts they are, taking advantage of my international stardom to steal into national radio stations. I bet they’d never even seen a microphone before, why would they, even I know you can’t shear sheep with the national press. Even Paul Murphy rallied his ‘Tallaght Thugs’ (chuckle) round to give me some abuse “disgracing our nation” etc etc, what a hideous man. I wish he’d been put in jail for that water nonsense.
I wish everyone would realise that the independents are even worse. Has Shane Ross, for example, ever done a single thing right? They all need to learn from me and my Maggie.
Walking in the parade was fun, there were so many people embracing the Irish spirit and customs. Amongst others things, many American youths seemed to heartily agree with the idea that drinking should not be confined to the legally set minimum ages. I myself walked under the banner of the United Irish Counties Association, may the 32 not be divided by a hard border (dare I mention Brexit) and the sun shined on us. No matter that snow was besieging our island, I, as God’s celtic representative on this mortal earth stood in the splendid sun and sang our Soldier’s Song.
I met Mike Pence as well, very nice man, although he did seem a little overly-concerned in ensuring that I wasn’t wearing a wire (his hands lingered…hopefully Matt and his green-clad wife – heaven above I’ve forgotten her name, probably Chlamydia or something – didn’t get too jealous). He assured me that this nonsense about his supposed determination to stamp out gays and convert them to good, straight-laced Christians was merely ‘fake news.’ He even invited me to stay with him next year, when I make my glorious return to the US of A for next year’s Leo day. Hopefully Donald hasn’t tried to build another golf course by then, I’m not sure I could contain myself.
Why is everyone so quick to jump down my throat (it’s sore), and pour scorn on my attempts to be modern, straight, and manly. I wished our ‘Boys in Green’ good luck on Twitter before their outstanding win at Twicc—-? (how is it spelt)…. ANYWAY, they won, as I expected and doubtless were inspired by my patriotism. If I used the Ivory Coast flag who really cares? As the Leader of this great Republic of Ireland I made a decision to show my support for a small, insignificant African country. As if anyone could ever believe I don’t know my own flag. Pffffffttt.