I met Donald Trump once. He was in Scotland visiting as my parents are second cousins with his parents who had lived in my village.He happened to be at my house one morning whilst I was making breakfast. By at my house I mean he was just standing in the garden tamping around on some plants muttering "..killing taters, killin taters..". I didnt think he knew I was there till he froze and stared me right in the eye, and whispered, "ye dont want a case of the Irish, do ye lassie?". I said, N-no? He looked a me and just kept interrupting me saying No!..No?..No! as he pushed his way into my kitchen. He conspicuously protected his bosoms with his hands as if he was afraid they would brush against me as he slid by. Once in the kitchen he asked where "my ole man" was, but he had forgotten he had recently died. I stood there in a bit of shock. He pretended to look out the window as he snatched hot pancakes off a plate and shoved them into his trouser pockets. With out another word he slinked back out the door, stopping to tip the kipper tin he was wearing as a hat to say "cheerio" to a picture of my late husband.
is that real chat