‘BLETHERIN skate. Big mooth. Big-heidit. Sleekit. Cloon. Bauchle. Dottled. Feel. Fou o himsel. Eejit. Strang. Mintit. Smert. Pouer. Gallus. Havers. Erse.”
Yon’s whit a swatch o oor American brithers and sisters had tae say when spiered in a survey for wan word tae descrive Donald Trump.
Coorse, they didnae say it in Scots. That’s juist me, floggin awa at that deid coo o a language some Scottish folk are aye blythely tellin me never existit in the first place and if it ever did, it wis probably pish onywey.
Like maist, I’ve kent aboot da Donald for a whilie. He’s been flittin in and oot the public ee as lang as I can mind. A younger Trump, on Late Nicht wi David Letterman, sweirt tae awn hoo muckle siller he’s got. Or him tearin contestants a new yin on The Apprentice. And Trump Touer’s hard tae miss on a veesit tae New York. But he’s been giein the public ee a real keeker lately as a candidate himsel in the Republican Pairty presidential primaries.
I got an unexpectit double dose o him recently drivin hame fae speakin tae bairns at a schule in Ellon. Trump wis on the radio giein it the gash gab aboot hoo he’s better and smerter and has mair bawbees than aw his rival candidates pit thegither and a bit doon the A90 a spangie-new sign TRUMP INTERNATIONAL GOWF LINKS breenged intae and completely taen ower the periphery o ma vision at Menie.
I hae tae admit when Trump booled intae Scotland circa twa thoosand and sax, his blaw aboot investin a billion poond in Aiberdeenshire soondit pretty guid. Same wi his plans tae bigg the “best gowf coorse in the haill warld” on the Menie Estate ten mile north o Aiberdeen. I love the gowf, though the wey I play it, I doot the gowf loves me back. And I kent I’d be unlikely tae afford mony or ony roonds on a Trump coorse. But pairt o the paircel o promises wis thoosans o local joabs. Awricht then. Why no? I thocht, wioot really thinkin.
Donald Trump doesnae dae blate. Neither does Alex Salmond. A flech on the waw at ony o their encoonters wid hae a stottin guid story tae tell. But atween the twa men fawin in and fawin oot, plannin permission for Trump’s links coorse wis grantit. Easy tae say wi eftersicht that it shouldnae hae been gien but Trump’s record o ower-eident use o eminent domain (or compulsory purchase orders) in the States should hae had the alairm bells dirlin at Victoria Quay.
Insteid the Scottish Government cawed in the application fae Aiberdeenshire Cooncil and then green-lichtit the proposed gowf coorse, a muckle great hotel and a thoosan five hunner hooses and holiday hames on a bieldit site o special scientific interest. As muckle as I respeck Alex Salmond for winnin us the chance tae hae oor independence referendum, naebody can argue the moger that follaed for the environment and the community at Menie wis no a direct result o that decision.
But it wisnae until I watched Anthony Baxter’s documentary You’ve Been Trumped that I unnerstood the haill extent o the skaith that decision has meant for the land and folk o the area.
The continual pookin at the peace o mind o neeborin hame owners that didnae want tae sell their hooses tae Trump. The names and reputation o braw honest people like Michael Forbes beclartit in the press. Cuttin aff and no restorin a senior citizen’s watter supply. The promised billion-poond investment and joabs that hinna yet materialised. The arrest and subsequent drappin o chairges by Scottish polis o journalist and film-makar Anthony Baxter and his colleague. I wis actually shoacked that this had happened in Scotland. And I cannae tune in tae coverage o the US primaries wioot thinkin o Menie.
I listen tae candidate Trump talkin aboot the environment – “We can lea a little bit, but ye cannae destroy businesses” – and think o the Foveran Links sand dunes at Menie, howked and cowped and tint forever by his diggers tae mak wey for greens and fairweys. Add tae that his thrawn opposition tae the proposed windferm aff the Aiberdeenshire coast.
I hear his supporters chantin “Bigg That Waw!” and I think o David Milne. When Mr Milne refused tae sell his hoose tae him, Donald Trump ordered a muckle waw o earth tae be biggit roond it. Anither time, the Trump Organisation chairged Mr Milne for the cost o a fence they pit up wioot his permission aroond his property, muckle the same wey as candidate Trump is proposin tae bill the Mexican Government for the twa-thoosand-mile-lang waw he’s pledgin tae bigg atween the US and Mexico.
Trump’s campaign sae faur for the Republican pairty nomination in this year’s haliket race tae the White Hoose has been gash, raucle and elbas oot, his rhetoric as thochtie as a skelp in the pus. He’s cawed Mexicans “rapists” and rammied wi Republican rival Ted Cruz aboot whase wife wid mak the bonniest First Lady. His snippit comments aboot protesters at his rallies has radged up some amang his supporters tae stert huttin folk that dinnae agree wi them.
Ma guid freend Karen Sherman, wha bides in New York and still has aw this tae thole ilka day fae noo tae November, dauds the nail on the heid when she caws the Republican debate a “langsome comedy sketch aboot a fecht-tae-the-deeth reality show in a frat hoose at a Bible college”. And her wan word for each candidate? Trump: narcissist. Clinton: qualified. Sanders: dedicatit. And Cruz: apocalyptic.
A US presidential election is that unco democratic event maist o the warld has nae say in but whase result can affect ilka wicht and sowel on the planet.
Afore the American electorate mak their choice, they wid dae weel tae spier for wan word and mair fae the lang-sufferin folk at Menie.
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