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Trump Points To Manipulation Of Currency To Undermine US Dollar

Trump Points To Manipulation Of Currency To Undermine US Dollar

Letter from Llanaber

...Global politics seen through life in this strange tiny village in West Wales...

It is not a well-known fact but nevertheless a fact it is, that Llanaber has its own currency, the ‘Swopsy.’ In truth it is seldom used except for transactions exclusively between villagers, and then only for small transactions where money would not normally be needed. There are no notes or coins. The currency exists entirely in the form of a collection of eye movements and a handshake.

Let me give you a ‘for instance.’
Say, for example, I needed some sheep’s dottle for my rhubarb, and one of the local farmers, say, ‘Ifor the Sheep,’ needed some grass to feed a hungry ewe. I would approach Ifor and nod my head towards the rhubarb. Should he respond by nodding his head towards my lawn, we would wink three times and shake hands. By definition, and in the old traditions of the village, a ‘Swopsy’ transaction had been completed.

Why am I telling you this garbage? (I hear you cry).

It is this.

The President of America, Donald Trump, has indirectly accused the boss of the parish council here, Mrs. Dorothy ‘Binky’ Trim, of deliberately manipulating our currency to the disadvantage of the American dollar.

Whilst he hasn’t singled out Llanaber specifically, it is implicit in the tweet the cheese-ball headed Commander-In-Chief sent out to the world in general recently. I reproduce it for you below verbatim:

‘China, the European Union and others have been manipulating their currencies and interest rates lower, while the U.S. is raising rates while the dollars gets stronger and stronger with each passing day - taking away our big competitive edge. As usual, not a level playing field..’

It is quite clear that the Llanaber Swopsy falls into the category ‘others.’


It is true we have recently weakened the Swopsy by reducing the number of winks necessary to complete a transaction from three to one, and introducing the second eye in the maneuver, making the wink now equivalent to a blink, but this had nothing to do with the strengthening of the American dollar. This change in the value of the Swopsy was carried out to avoid ‘certain confusions.’

Let me elaborate.

Our village has an official pervert, Solly Weinstein (no relation). Solly had been in ‘hot water’ recently on a number of fronts but mainly for blabbing to the cops about Mrs. Trim’s ‘dirty secrets,’ and for trying to measure the village maiden’s belly buttons without their explicit consent. It is the latter of these two issues that is the root cause of the devaluation of the Swopsy.

How come? (I hear you cry).

It is this. 

Solly has appeared in court recently, not for the matter of the 2016 election nobbling by Putin Lotzadosh or his secret recording of Mrs. Trim bunging the ‘escorts’ she bonked cash to stop them blabbing, but for his shenanigans with the village maidens.

Lord Justice Arbuthnot Trim was presiding (erstwhile known as fat Leonard). It was a bit of a farce to be honest. The village maidens formed a line leading up to the witness box. There were sixty six of them in total. When the first one was asked by Lord Justice Arbuthnot Trim what precisely Solly had done to her, all she said was, “Me too!” Then, each of the others traipsed into the witness box and yelled, “Me too!”

What the blazes has this to do with the devaluation of the Swopsy? (I hear you shriek).

It is this.

Each and every one of these maidens, when giving her evidence to the judge, looked across to the dock where Solly was standing and winked at him three times! Each and every maiden was treated to exactly the same response from Solly, a return ‘triple winker.’


Unbeknown to everyone in the village a ‘secret code’ had been devised between Solly and the maidens he stands accused of molesting with his navel tape measure.

This fact would have gone completely unnoticed had the prosecuting lawyer not been the eagle-eyed courtroom brawler who has recently been appointed as private lawyer to Mrs. Trim, Mrs. Ruby ‘Rottweiler Rube’ Guillotini.

She picked up on it in a flash.

Under tough cross-examination by the ‘Rot,’ Solly came clean and spilled the beans. It was all a money-making ruse. A deal had been struck between the maidens and Solly, and between Solly and the editor-in-chief of the Druidellau gardening magazine, ‘Thyme,’ Hymie Finklestein. The deal was for exclusivity on the maidens’ ‘kiss and tell’ stories should Solly be found guilty and be given community service.

In truth, just as in America with Harvey Weinstein’s accusers, the maidens had no issues with Solly secretly measuring their belly buttons. They were each paid handsomely by the village pervert and were happy to take the bung. 

In truth Lord Justice Arbuthnot Trim would have had no issues with the little ruse were it not for the winks!

This simple eyelid gesture was part and parcel of the village currency and has been for centuries. To use this eye signal for anything other than part of a Swopsy transaction undermined the very basis of the value of the currency. 

Lord Justice… oh I can’t be bothered with his new name, fat Leonard ruled there and then that the eye content of any future Swopsy transaction MUST henceforth be one where there could be no ‘double-meaning’ or room for misinterpretation. 

It was to be a single blink using both eyes simultaneously. 

These are the bold facts behind the devaluation of our currency. It was as a consequence of having a pervy-slimeball living in the village, and was not done to undermine the American dollar (although I can see it from Donald Trump’s perspective, and can understand why he ‘lumped us in’ with China and the EU). 

I know the $Dollar has strengthened on the international currency markets from 1 Dollar being worth 1, 000,000,000,000  Swopsies to now being worth 1,000,000,000,002, but this shouldn’t have a tangibly detrimental effect on the purchasing power of American visitors to our village, unless they are particularly interested in the purchase of sheep’s dottle. 

That’s it for now.



And we've uncovered a bonus Letter from Llanaber!

‘Boss’ Brags about Destroying Critic’s Careers in Failed Charm Offensive.

Today I had an unusual request from my esteemed leader and the boss of the Llanaber parish council, Mrs. Dorothy ‘Binky’ Trim. You may recall the mad old bat is obsessed with jumping on whatever rickety ‘wheels hanging off’ bandwagon driven by Donald Trump that passes her door. So it was frustrating for me not to be able to edge past her desk and get to the news feed ticker tape room to see what the latest news was about the insane anorexia denier. 

Those avid readers of my newsletter will remember that Mrs. Trim sealed up the door off the corridor into the news feed room and ‘knocked through’ from her office, making the only way in to the news feed room the squeeze past Mrs. Trim’s desk. So I was ‘flying blind’ when she gave me the following instruction:

“I want you to make a list of the names of anybody you know of that has ever said anything less than flattering about me and have it on my desk by lunchtime (10:00am in Llanaber), along with what they said.”

This was a challenge.

I know my memory is not what it was but that wasn’t the issue. My problem was everybody in the village has at some time or other said derogatory things about Mrs. Trim. Using print size ‘8,’I would still need a sheet of paper the length of a toilet roll to fit on all the names and insults.

I decided I would need more information in order to tailor the list to meet my lunatic boss’ requirements.

“Er, is there a specific reason you need this?” I asked gingerly.

“Yes,” she replied, “I’m going to destroy their careers, grind them into the dust and gob on their graves.”

“Oh,” I said, “Righty-ho then.”

I walked out of her office backwards, bowing low, my eyes averted from her gaze (a new rule Mrs. Trim introduced recently to enhance the deference her underlings have to display when visiting her office).


Once outside the room I quickly made my way out of the building. I needed to find the one person in the village that might have an inkling of what Mrs. T. latest ‘batty-fad’ was about. This person was, of course, the official village gossip, Mrs. Winfrey. Her ‘day job’ is cleaning the parish council offices and she always starts her working shift with a mug of tea, a slice of Bara Brith (a local confection made form bread ingredients and sawdust popular with the villagers) and a good nose at the strings of news ticker tape in the comms room.

I found Mrs. Winfrey on the beach practicing her gossiping technique on one of Dai the Donkey’s scabby mules. The poor animal looked as if it was about to self-harm.

“Can I have a word?” I asked old Mrs. W.

Her face lit up like a searchlight in the fog.

I did not need to press her any harder to get her attention. She launched immediately into her standard gossip opening gambit, “Have you heard the latest?”

This was instantly followed by one of her long and convoluted gossip blurts that consisted of several stories conflated into one. I needed all my powers of concentration to spot the one that mattered to me now. What she said was as follows:

“Trump drove his rally car to Ohio and was late to meet the Queen but said he wasn’t and said he would push anybody that said he was down a tube before meeting the president of Iran anywhere except in North Korea where Chinaman Kim Jong Un has annoyed him again by being a great guy at still building nukes.”

There is was!

Hidden midst the drivel was what Mrs. Trim’s current fad was all about. The ‘comb-over cretin’ had had another rally and spouted another of his headline grabbing mouth-farts. It didn’t take me long to find out exactly what had happened. 

I quickly made my way to the high street, edged my way around the enormous sink hole in the road and popped into Trevor the Trot’s café to borrow his telephone.

The call I made was to Druidellau, to Hymie Finkelstein, the editor-in-chief of the Druid’s weekly gardening magazine, ‘Thyme.’ He brought me up to speed with exactly what had happened. 

The self-effacing anorexia denier, ‘prossie bunger’ and Braniac, Trump, had been boasting at a rally in Ohio that he destroyed the careers (and lives) of any Republicans that dared to have a different opinion about the mega-egotist’s worth. From Hymie’s ticker tape version of the news story, he quoted me verbatim what Trump had said:

“How do you get 100 percent of anything? We always have somebody who says 'I don't like Trump, I don't like our president, he destroyed my career, I only destroy their career because they said bad things about me and you fight back and they go down the tubes and that's OK.”

The fog lifted in my brain. 

I now knew what bats were flying loose around the inside of my esteemed leader’s head when she gave me this mission to complete.


I thanked Hymie and hurried back to the office. I had a huge task in front of me and time was of the essence (inasmuch as I knock off at five o’clock and didn’t want to stay late as ‘Strictly Come Chicken-Sexing’ was on the telly that evening, fog permitting).

The main problem I faced was not producing a list of people that had said unkind things about Mrs. T. That was the easy part. All I had to do for that was take a copy of the village electoral register. 

No, dear reader, my problem was this. 

I now knew Mrs. T was intent on destroying the careers of anyone on the list. Whilst this would be for many an opportunity to ‘stick it’ to anyone that had ever made them (me) look a fool (again a copy of the village electoral list would come in handy here) I am not a vengeful man by nature. 

In fact being on the benign side meant my sole purpose in compiling the list to my esteemed leader’s requirements meant I had an obligation to protect the careers of anyone I put on the bloody thing.

She demanded names!

She demanded details of derogatory remarks!

It was a challenge, dear reader, but after a good long slog at it I produced the following:
List of people that have said unflattering things about Mrs. Dorothy ‘Binky’ Trim:

‘Ginger’ the office boy – “Mrs. Trim looks too beautiful today she’s makes me feel dowdy.

‘Old Thomas the Gravedigger’- I hate it when Mrs. T is so generous with our salaries. It’s council money. She should be less kind!

‘Dai the Donkey’ – Mrs. Trim reminds me of a donkey’s butt, strong, solid, dependable, and forever yielding fertilizer from her facial orifice to help the village grow.

‘Mrs. Winfrey’ – Have you heard the latest? Mrs. Trim is NOT clever at all. She’s a bloody genius!

‘Putin Lotzadosh’ – It’s hard to concentrate with her around. She should tone down the dazzling beauty.

‘Mrs. Clinton’ - Drat the woman! She’s so much better as the boss of the council than I would ever have been.

‘David Smith’ – I love my work so much that I hate her for sometimes letting me go home early, Good job she isn’t even more cruel to me by making me take every Friday off work.

When I presented her with the list she read it and frowned.


“But they’re actually saying things that are elliptically complimentary,” she said.

“Hmm,” I said, “I never thought of it that way. You are very clever, aren’t you?”

“This is a pile of dottle!” she barked at me, “It’s not what I expected at all. You’re a dolt. Take Friday off as punishment!”

In America, Republicans may live in fear of reprisals for criticizing (fairly or otherwise) the insane megalomaniac that is their Commander-In-Chief. In Llanaber we are gradually learning to use the vanity of Llanaber’s Ego-Nincompoop-In Chief to our advantage.

That’s it for now.




Photo by Gage Skidmore from Peoria, AZ, United States of America  ||  CC-BY-SA-2.0

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