BILLIONAIRE Elon Musk has fallen in love with converting Europe to fascism, and he is pressing his ardour. Will Joanna Kramer, aged 44, fall to his shock troops?
Elon on Joanna
First impression?
Woman. UK voter. Nothing else matters. This is how I focus and win.
How was conversation?
Unimportant, from her side. But from me flowed an unassailable stream of logic which left her in no doubt that freeing Tommy Robinson is the first priority of every Brit.
Memorable moments?
Several of the tweets I sent during breaks in my monologue should be printed out, framed and should replace the royal crest on government buildings.
Favourite thing about Joanna?
I don’t have ‘favourite things’ about anyone with less than $500 million in assets.
A capsule description?
I said. Woman.
Was there a spark?
Physical attraction is irrational and deleterious to the earth’s future. I am developing mandatory breeding programmes.
What happened afterwards?
I moved on to the next one.
What would you change about the evening?
It would have been preferable not to look at her.
Will you see each other again?
She’s converted now and will be voting for the Trumpiest candidate when I call this summer’s general election, so what would be the point?
Joanna on Elon
First impression?
It really is the dickhead from the internet. Hat and everything.
How was conversation?
Nothing that took place could be described as conversation. He declaimed sentences in the brief intervals between far-right retweets.
Memorable moments?
When he explained why he only has babies via IVF. Sadly I’ve had to sign an NDA, but it is at least as mental as you’d expect.
Favourite thing about Elon?
His money. There is nothing else one could conceivably like. And even that’s used for evil.
A capsule description?
Prick acolyte of Trump locked into a spiral of drug-fuelled decline and determined to take the world with him when he goes.
Was there a spark?
Imagine sitting across from a piggy-eyed man in a baseball cap barking staccato sentences like ‘Starmer must be jailed’ or ‘You are the media now’ between tapping furiously on his phone and receiving unspecified injections from aides. Then realise how ridiculous that question is.
What happened afterwards?
I was ushered out after the starter and asked to give a binding declaration of voting intent. I refused and his staff said I had anyway.
What would you change about the evening?
He would have suffered his inevitable brain aneurysm while I was there to see it.
Will you see each other again?
Oh no. Oh definitely not. He’ll soon be in hell, you see.
