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Six movies retrospectively ruined by Donald Trump cameos

PRESIDENT Trump not only believes himself a politician but an asset to the silver screen. Avoid watching any of these unless you want an unexpected jump-scare: 

Home Along 2: Lost in New York (1992) 

Trump’s second appearance on screen – his first was in a movie about Bo Derek having sex with a ghost billionaire, for which he won a Golden Raspberry – and his best-known. In terrible casting, he isn’t one of the inept money- and revenge-obsessed thieves but Donald Trump, who gives a child directions through Trump Plaza. Without boasting ‘I own it.’ Unconvincing.

The Associate (1996) 

Whoopi Goldberg comedy where she masquerades as a white man to make it on Wall Street, at one point making a deal with Trump. At this point the bulk of his businesses had gone bankrupt, so playing a successful millionaire on screen was very much casting against type.

Celebrity (1998) 

One of Woody Allen’s least successful films features Trump claiming he plans to buy the iconic St Patrick’s Cathedral in Manhattan and ‘doing a little rip-down job and putting up a very, very tall and beautiful building’. May have improvised his own dialogue, it being exactly the kind of shit he spews.

54 (1998) 

Movie chronicling the legendary New York disco hotspot Studio 54, which Bianca Jagger rode into on a white horse, where Rod Stewart would hit the dancefloor high on a brand of poppers called Cum, and where Donald Trump was a regular attendee. Doesn’t sound so much fun now, does it? That glowering, miserable face in the VIP booth?

Zoolander (2001) 

Trump popping up to say ‘Without Derek Zoolander, male modelling wouldn’t be what it is today,’ is a blast of cold sewage in the face when you’re watching a fun, mindless comedy. Given it also has cameos roles for Heidi Klum, Victoria Beckham, Paris Hilton and Lil’ Kim, it seems that Trump was just one more vainglorious dickhead who answered the phone.

Two Weeks Notice (2002) 

A pleasant romcom in which Hugh Grant and Sandra Bullock pair rather well until an unpleasant scene on a yacht where Trump, unafraid to be stereotyped, plays himself as an asshole. The scene’s included to show that Grant’s character may be a selfish twat businessman but he could be far, far worse, which it manages admirably.

Cartoons of foxes in waistcoats, and other features of truly characterless gastropubs

SOULLESS pubs feigning a long rustic history always pull the same interior design crap based around the same few bollocks items: 

Cartoons of foxes in waistcoats

What could be more English than the fox, nature’s murderous bastard, dressed up like an estate agent on a shooting weekend? Fun the first time you saw it, when you were five, but the joke wears thin when it’s repeated in every gold-painted plastic frame on the way to the loo, from frogs in tweeds to sheep in cravats.

An enormous bookcase

Ceiling-high platforms filled with dusty books are like something from a film and look just as unreal in a gastropub because they literally are. These bought-by-the-yard encyclopaedias are nothing but thick wallpaper. And it would be odd to read them in a busy pub while customers queue at the carvery, even if you’ve forgotten your phone.

Vintage adverts

It’s easy to forget what a wartime sign for Colman’s Mustard looks like until entering one of these establishments, at which point you’re bombarded with them like 1920s pop-ups. Two pints in you’ve already concluded the Guinness toucan can go f**k itself, then the sleazy fifties pin-up cigarettes ads at the urinals send you out for a smoke and you never return.

Old maps of the area

You should already know exactly where you are, blowing £40 on stale IPAs and a burger one notch up from a Rustler’s, but there’s nothing like a 200-year-old map. Learning the original site was a turnpike next to a pig farm gives so much more character to binge-drinking your way through a Sunday roast with your parents.

Fake taxidermy 

This country’s wildlife can’t provide the grandeur of a moose head, so there’s a shabby stuffed stoat ogling you while you munch a ‘Best of British’ croquette. Even more generic is a bronze stag head to remind patrons a pub used to be worthy breaks after a hunt, rather than somewhere kids are given a placemat to colour and overpriced Tyrrell’s.

Year-round bunting

No need for a coronation, World Cup or swimming gala for this pub to celebrate because the bunting never comes down. Whether it’s a wake or a standard nationwide-run quiz, they’ll include the same neutral coloured flags half-draped over a mirror, giving the impression that a singular moment of fun died long ago and you’re drinking in its grave.

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