When yr up against Donnie that kinda thing’s no chance. Bar’s been raised way higher. You might rememb back in the day during one of the earlier tilts Joe had actually fronted the cameras egghead. You recall? Try the tube. No more. Who was the last shiny domed contender? Gerry right. But that was an age ago, totally different era. Loved the canary yellow convertible, roof down, Ray Bans they musta been. Channeling Pete Fonda or Bertie Reynolds was it? Musta been a still to stop the combover getting mussed. You seen couple of the pics of Trumpet getting blown—by the helicopter I mean, or it mighta been on the course in Florida. Great big bald spot behind even orange on peach couldn’t hide. Executive time mornings includes a stretch in the chair setting it right, sprays n non-sticks that give the man all the confidence he needs—like in the deodorant & sanitary pad ads. Bowling up to the podium heart burstin. Mel helps too of course. More confidence. Poor gal must be on some punishing diets. She mightn’t have understood all his remarks to the partners of the foreign leaders, but she would know the drill alright. Young... Baron was it? (Man oh man!) Gotta wear kiddie suits & ties mornin noon & night. Haven’t seen Joe’s gal but she’d be nervous if he won the nomination, open slather with Donnie prowling. How in the heck was she suppose compete with a woman half her age? Scottie thinks T. will “destroy” him—dunno why exactly. The rattle off the cuff. Parently he’s slipping a bit too, forgetting stuff, interviewer names; &etc. Confused wife & sis-in-law recently. Never was the sharpest tool in the shed they say, as was proved by the BS of the Harvard story he tried to get away with on an earlier run. What hope is there.
NB. Mail to a friend in Oz following the US primaries.
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