The McGuffin Effect: Ed Goes To Washington
Ed super pumped about our trip to DC. I did the prep though. We got this old-time expression back in Chicago: “Prepare, prepare, prepare the pitch; game bound to go your way-yo, bitch”.
Favors were called in. Strings were pulled. Whole bunch of guys giving him the fluff n’ puff. Jock-punching his shoulder, jock-squeezing his balls. Ladies giving him those firm handshakes. Everyone made him feel like he was a serious player on some big-ass international stage.
Swear to God, three hours in and the guy’s gone BUSH. He’s loosened the tie. He’s squinting into the distance like Clint Fucking Eastwood. He’s taking calls on his “cell”. He’s saying “certainly” when people thank him. Yes siree, Ed. A regular Yankee Doodle Milibandy Dandy. And you know what? That fistbump’s definitely improving. Though he’s still missing way, way too many, the fuckchump. Straight jabbed a drink out of some senior staffer’s hand at a State brunch, then clean punched old Mrs Kegelstein right in the mouth. OK, caveat. She IS in a goddam wheechair, so kind of at a tricky height.
Thought the poor sap was about to piss his pants when Barack did his faux-whoa meet and greet. “Hey, Joe! How’s it hanging, man? Still kicking that Great British ass? WHOA is this dude who I THINK the fuck it IS?” Barack offers Ed his dazzling smile and the lazy-bro handclasp. Obviously Ed misses, shouldering Barack right in the Android. Security guys firm but fair. They pick Ed up and gently dump him a yard back.
“Absolute flipping honor to meet you, Sir!” jabbers Ed, his face morphing into a casserole of eyes and intestines. “I can’t tell you how thrilled I was when America got its first black President, obviously I’m not black myself, I’m Jewish, although I should say not observant, secular but respectful of all faiths, ha ha ha, still, shalom, how YOU doing, I LOVE your suit Mr Obama, oh bugger kill me now, God bless America!”
Big O’s tuned out, already heading for the boom-boom room they keep for brush-bys. Swear to God, on a busy day that place gets more turnaround than a crack whore’s mattress. At the table: Barack, me, Ed, couple of secret service guys who Ed thinks are from Senate, and a press assistant pretending to be national security advisor Susan Rice. Sitdown’s a UK photo call – face it, nobody outside DC knows what the fuck anyone looks like – and Barack’s a total pro. Even throws in a little small talk – “Heard a lot about you from Joe. Good luck with that shit, man. Wish I had a little mind control myself, you know. Put those crazy-ass Tea Party cracker fucks to sleep until 2017, know what I’m sayin’?”
Click. Boom. Kodak moment. Ed with POTUS. Welcome to the first class lounge, son. Then everything goes super slo-mo and I’m thinking two things. First, Barack has mistaken Ed for the illusionist Derren Brown. OK, I’d been to see the show last time I was in London, loved the freaking guy and had maybe talked more about him than Ed in my paving convo with BO. Second, Ed’s clumsy as fuck high five looks like a Nazi salute, which is some next level self-loathing shit right there.
On the flight back to O’Hare I go through the digital record of Mr Klutz Goes To Washington. Of the 934 images we have, two are usable. One in the boom-boom room, Ed’s mouth uncharacteristically shut. The other – great image actually, Ed and Barack both laughing in astonishment. Ed amazed that the President of the United States can produce an egg from behind the national security advisor’s ear; Barack amazed Derren Brown is so fucking impressed.
Rest of photographs: dreck. Oh sweet fat baby Jesus, Ed and Biden in matching basketball vests at Ben’s Chili Bowl. You think Ed looked bad eating a “bacon sandwich”? Should have seen him lose to a half-smoke, man. I know you Brits like your scatological humor but no fucking way that’s ever surfacing.
- McGuffin drawn by Ellie Forman-Peck www.elliefp.co.uk