‘President Fiddles Expenses’ Exposé Shock Horror
There have been shock events in regards to the ‘president’s’ unpublished finances and for once the tables of justice have been turned. It looks highly likely that the truth will finally be revealed concerning the financial ‘goings on’ in our corrupt administration. The sanitising light of justice will at last shine into the dark corners in the corridors of power.
Those that follow events in our tiny fog-bound village in West Wales will be cognisant of the behaviour of our esteemed leader, the boss of the Llanaber village council, Mrs. Dorothy ‘Binky’ Trim (or ‘Mrs. President’ as she is insisting is her true title). It is an unwritten rule in the United States of America that the sitting president evidences to his country and to the world that his affairs are in order and he is an honest man who abides by his or her country’s laws by paying his ‘full whack’ of taxes.
However, the dreadful Donald Trump has steadfastly refused to do this both before and since he took office, and broke 40 years of political tradition when he refused to release his tax returns. Now that the Democrats are in power in Congress they are in a position to rock the president’s boat. Quite rightly, one of the ways they can do this is to press for the release of Trump’s tax returns. The almighty battle that lies ahead of American politics and its law courts has begun. The New York Democratic lawmakers have started paving the way to allow Congress to access details of Trump’s confidential files by introducing a bill in the state legislature that would allow Congress to request the president’s state filings.
Last Monday Legislators introduced the bill that amends state law to permit the New York Department of Taxation and Finance Commissioner to release any tax returns requested by the Leader of the House Ways and Means Committee, the Senate Finance Committee or the joint Committee on Taxation for any ‘specific and legitimate legislative purpose.’ The state laws currently prohibit such tax information being released, and this new legislation will change this if passed.
How does the Foreign Secretary from a Godforsaken village on the edge of Cardigan Bay know all this? (I hear you ask).
I have an excellent new alarm clock and it is battery operated. As such it doesn’t suffer from the vagaries of the electricity supply to our village, which is most unreliable. Our electricity is frequently cut off when, for example, it rains, or a sheep gnaws through the overland power cable, resulting in a sudden power cut and a large, smouldering woolly kebab in a nearby field.
Too many times I’ve woken up in the morning to discover it’s the afternoon, and all because an overnight power cut had buggered up my electric alarm clock settings. Now that I’m ‘battery powered’ I wake up every morning at 5:00am precisely. This allows me sufficient time to be up, wash and shave, dress, enjoy a hearty breakfast of porridge and Bara Brith (a local bread-like confection made from flour and sawdust) and take a quick stroll through the perpetual fog to arrive at the council offices at 6:00am precisely, well ahead of my esteemed leader, old mother Trim.
Once at the office I can meander at a leisurely pace up to the ‘comms’ room, the small cubby-hole behind Mrs. Trim’s office given over to the news feed ticker tape device. Once inside the ‘comms’ room it is my duty to act at the village censor. There, every morning, quietly and alone, I can sift through the overnight news strings lying at the foot of the machine, and sort the ‘wheat’ from the ‘chaff.’
By chaff I mean any item of world news likely to bring trouble to our village, but specifically anything related to the idiot boss of America, Donald Trump, and his zany antics. Those followers of my news letters will know Mrs. Trim is Trump’s most avid admirer and is prepared to jump on even the craziest of his bandwagon’s.
However, yesterday I came upon the piece of news relating to the N.Y. Democratic legislators’ move to open the door to the mystery of Trump’s tax returns. My heart jumped! For years it has been my ambition to expose Mrs. Trim as a ‘fiddler of her expenses,’ a fraudster, and an all round bad egg. ‘Binky’ has never let anyone see her expenses claims, not even her own accountant! I have long believed that something is rotten in the state of her financial affairs. Now, there on the ticker tape string in front of me was the means to get my hands on Mrs. Trim’s ‘books.’ A plan began to hatch in my fog-bound brain.
Our village council answers to a ‘higher authority.’ This takes the form of Gwynedd county council. There is a man on the council called Mr. Fiddler. It is his job to look after all financial matters relating to the council and all its employees. He is the guardian at the gate when it comes to any matter of confidentiality regarding village council bosses including the release of their expenses claims.
He is also partial to donkeys (not in the sexual sense – when he visits our village he always finds time to go to the beach and have a ‘go’ on one of Dai the Donkey’s ‘broke-back’ nags). Dai is an old family friend and every Christmas he gives me a voucher for two free ‘goes’ on his donkeys as a present. I must confess, dear reader, I used this voucher to bribe Mr. Fiddler when he turned up at our office this morning to carry out an audit on the office tea and coffee fund ‘kitty.’
After lengthy and secret negotiations carried out between Mr. Fiddler and myself behind the office cycle sheds, we came to a ‘deal.’ It was this. In exchange for the donkey ride voucher Mr. Fiddler agreed to let me have a copy of Mrs. Trim’s expenses claim submitted to the Gwynedd Council finance department for the day of April 6th 2019!
The day in question was a Saturday. There was but one expense claimed on Mrs. Trim’s form submitted for that day. This was for car parking, and was for the sum of fifty pence.
There it was, dear reader, the evidence I had been seeking all these years.
There it was in black and white!
Mrs. Trim had claimed the sum of fifty pence for parking fees outside the Gwynedd council offices, quite clearly a false and fraudulent claim!
How do I know this claim is false and fraudulent? (I hear you cry).
It is simply this. i) Mrs. Trim would never carry out any council duties on a Saturday. It is the one day of the week she joins her roly-poly husband, Leonard, to work in the sweet shop she owns in the village high street, Nanny Trim’s Sweets ‘N’ Stuff. ii) Mrs. Trim doesn’t own a car, iii) I know it as a fact that she was out of the country on the day in question, and iv) She is a lying scumbag that would steal chocolate from a malnourished baby and sell it to a tramp to get money to buy drugs and guns (this last point is just conjecture and not based on any evidence I’ve managed to gather to date).
Now I had in my hand irrefutable evidence that ‘El Presidente’ Trim was a crook, conning the taxpayers of the county out of fifty pence.
I am determined that justice will prevail and, with no thoughts of the personal damage to my career that would inevitably follow should my attempt to flush her out of office fails, will confront her with this evidence… just as soon as Mrs. Trim, her husband Leonard, and all their fat stupid kids, all return from their six week long winter ‘fact finding’ trip to the Maldives, fully funded by the village hospital budget, to investigate the effects of sun and alcohol on obese people from a Welsh village.
Until then, dear reader, until then!
That’s it for now.