Hi, America, it's your favourite president, President Trump.
Now, I hear there's a lot of confusion about voting.
Mostly caused by me.
So, I'm here to straighten it out.
With my proven technique, you can vote like Trump,
and for Trump. Trump!
If you're in Florida, then you should vote.
But if you're in California, don't bother.
This is a ballot.
If you wanna vote for Trump, do this.
What if you're crazy and you hate America
and you don't wanna vote for Trump? Do this.
Good.
OK. Now you voted right, what do you do with this thing?
On election day, go to the precinct, or whatever they call it.
You'll have to prove you're allowed to vote, so bring one of these.
Hand in your ballot, then show those freedom-hating Democrats
waiting to vote how happy you are by doing this.
Some people wanna mail in votes.
That's OK if you voted for me.
But this ballot is for Sleepy Joe.
- Mike, mail this for me. - Yes, sir.
Mother, help me, ooh!
- Argh! - See? Mailboxes know.
I don't know how, but they know,
and they don't like it when you don't vote me.
Step 5 to whatever:
After you vote, make doubly sure
that your vote has been counted by voting again.
And there you have it, how to vote.
- Clean that up! - Yes, Mr President.
New James Bond auditions. Boris Johnson, take one.
My nomen, uh, commencing, as it were,
with my surname on the non-distaff side of my family is, uh, Bond.
- Cut! - And the, uh, cognomen,
or everyday epithet that I am known by, is James.
Producing, as it were, a complete appellatory sequence of...
Everyone take five!
Ah, Mars. As first to touch down,
I claim this virgin territory for the Branson empire.
Touch down? You literally fell out of your balloon.
Yes, from a great altitude.
Still, fair's fair. I won our gentlemen's bet.
Look, we're stuck on Mars. Out of fuel, no way home.
It's cooperate or die faster than Branson's music label.
Perhaps.
OK. Let's start by naming our new capital.
- Bezos City. - Muskatania.
Cooperation over!
So be it. I claim the southern hemisphere.
I claim the northern hemisphere.
- And I claim all the rest! - Farewell.
We will not meet again until the final battle to rule Mars
- across all e-commerce platforms. - Okie-dokey.
Right, so, I guess this ditch is mine.
Now, to rehydrate, some sherry.
Did anyone bring water?
How are you folks doin'?
You enjoying those pancakes in front of you?
- Oh, yes. - Yeah.
You know, I whip up a pretty mean batch myself.
Biden's Famous Flap Joes, we call 'em.
I like 'em with Aunt Jemima syrup,
but they tell me she's a stereotype,
- so now I just sprinkle on Lipitor. - Sir, instead of saying things,
how about you flip some pancakes in the kitchen?
- Great photo op! - Genius here loves his photo ops.
How we doin', José? You know, my friend Barack Obama
and I created the Dream Act to help illegals like you.
My name is Robert, and I was born in Nebraska.
Whatever you say, José. Alrighty, it's grub time.
- Got film in that camera? - Not for many years, Sir.
And a one, and a two, and a flippitydo!
You get that? Cos this one's ready to go, too.
Hey, you like that with ham steak?
Sir, we really should wrap it up.
Wrap it up? So, it's a to-go order?
No, I meant we have to go.
Old Joe Biden don't quit in the middle of the job.
Look what just came in. Sausage 'n grits.
Hobo hash. Eggs sunny side down?
- Christ, I'm falling behind here! - Yes, but sir, we...
I got orders to sling, out of my kitchen!
Keep them orders comin', Millie, come on!
Guten tag, Instagram.
It is I, Angela Merkel, announcing a plan
to revitalise the German economy.
No more industries of the past like cars, computers and flugelhorns.
Today, Germany enters the global industry of the future.
Personally branded makeup.
Say goodbye to the Kylie Jenners, Rihannas and the Kats Von D,
and hello to the precision German engineering of Merkel's Merk-Up.
My palette has all the vibrant colours of the German rainbow.
Grey, Dark Grey, Berlin Concrete, und Accident In A Coalmine.
Und every Merk-Up kit comes with a special applicator,
a repurposed car factory robot.
So, subscribe, and get 20% off my products
with the code Merk Me Beautiful.
Oh!
Careful, Harry. I spilled some essential oils on the floor.
Whoa!
Ahh!
Ooh! What's with all the potions, Meg?
You're not going scientist on me, are you?
If I'm gonna succeed in America,
I need a lifestyle brand of creams and supplements.
Gwyneth Paltrow has Goop.
Kourtney Kardashian has Poosh.
And Jamie Lee Curtis has Poogurt. Now, I've got mine.
Meg-Goo, celebrating the sexy Earth goddess in all of us.
Brilliant, you're a genius at sauces and ointments.
What I need now is a way to launch it.
A private, intimate affair that gets blasted out on social media
to every human in the world.
Like an Emmy or an Oscar bash, only bigger.
A BAFTA party?
But seriously, it's gotta sell the mommy lifestyle.
And it's gotta be all about me.
But not seem like it's all about me.
Hm. If only we had a kid or something.
That's it, you magnificent ginger!
I'll throw a birthday party for Archie!
With the hottest celebrities and the handsiest movie producers.
But his birthday was months ago.
Well, round him down. This is Hollywood.
The last thing we want is an old baby.
Good news, son. You're turning one again.
He already hates his dad, that's a Windsor for you.
Mitch, I'm kind of worried,
but mostly confident, that I'll be re-elected.
But in case they don't, I've gotta make sure my legacy survives.
Question one, what is my legacy?
Well, you put up some test border walls that blew over.
Let me put it differently,
how do I stay out of jail once I'm out of office?
Uh...
- Don't commit crimes? - God, you're dumb!
We gotta pack the courts with conservative,
back-scratching, Trump-loving judges.
But Amy Coney Barrett was the last qualified Republican judge
in America. I'm all out of candidates.
Just do it, Mitch. This is why I became President.
To keep my ass safe when I stop being President.
OK, I'm off to Dairy Queen to eat ice cream straight from the nozzle.
Glug, glug, glug, glug! Ahh!
Stupid Bezos, I don't need his help.
Step one, inflate the bubble habitat.
Why is there so little air in this air?
I told you to bring a bicycle pump.
Ow, ow, ouch! Were you slapping me in the face?
Not at all, I was kicking you in the gonads.
Thanks, I'm awake now. Ow!
What do you want, Branson?
I came to offer you a deal.
If I can inflate your habitat, can I be your bubble buddy?
I haven't had oxygen in 15 minutes. I'm open to suggestions.
As an old hand at the balloon game,
I always carry some emergency gas in case I need to reinflate.
Right, then. Forgot it was helium. Sherry?
I must warn you, it's quite dry.
OK, so you say you're a lawyer?
Yeah. Got my business card right here.
But you have been to law school?
I've been to school, and I've had run-ins with the law.
Great, you're a judge.
New James Bond auditions. Adele, take one.
What's my fucking name?
It's Bond, innit? James fucking Bond.
This is mental, innit, oh, my God, d'you know what I mean?
- ♪ Skyfall... ♪ - Cut.
Come in!
Coats in the spare bedrooms, babies in the playpen.
I, Ronaldo, am happy to be here.
Everybody remember to sign your non-nondisclosure agreement.
Nothing that happens at this party stays at this party.
Great shindig, Meg.
Even the star of Tiger King is here.
Does anyone smell goat cheese?
Canape? You stay.
Lee, we are going to be late for the climate strike.
We are going to lie down in front of a police van.
Yeah, I thought I'd lie down on the sofa.
The only way to avoid future suffering is to suffer right now.
But The Fast And The Furious Presents Hobbs And Shaw
is on right now. It's got The Rock in it.
The Fast And The Furious films celebrate everything
I despise about what mankind is doing to the planet.
Well, that's probably why you should go on your climate strike
and I should stay in and watch the telly.
We should share each other's interests.
You should want to come to the climate strike.
Yeah, or you could stay and watch Hobbs and Shaw.
- OK. I will. - You will?
And I will explain to you why you should hate it.
OK, did you ever do anything bad
that would prevent you from being a judge?
Well, I did disown my gay son on Twitter.
No, no, we know you're qualified,
- I mean, like, did you ever kill someone? - No.
Oh, wait, yes. Yes, I have.
- Were you standing your ground? - I was standing on the ground.
Well, you gotta stand some place. You're a judge!
- Order up, Nelly. - Is that my Western omelette?
Regionally nonspecific omelette.
Breakfasts are inclusive around here.
OK, next order.
What the hell is a "we gotta go, Joe"?
It's time to go! You've been working here for two days!
You've locked down all the votes in this town
- on the strength of your pancakes alone. - Pancakes?
What the hell kinda high-hat bullshit it is that?
I make the food of the working man...
griddle flaps, batter bread, Delaware Dollars.
Now git! José, hash up a load of fry-spuds.
The man you keep mistakenly calling José was laid off.
You took his job!
A lot of problems with the American labour market.
Sure hope the next President can get a handle on that issue.
Joe, you can cook breakfast when you're in the White House.
Hey, maybe I like it here, man.
Maybe I just wanna help people face-to-face,
see their smiles and smell their burps.
You're supposed to be at a fundraising dinner
in California tomorrow. Can't you say something?
Hold the fundraiser here. This ranchero bean scramble
- is delicious. - Thanks, pal.
OK, a Trucker Special? That's an 18-egger!
Dang it, Millie, I told you we needed more eggs.
Do I have to do everything myself?
Oh, look what you made me do.
Look what you just made me do.
- Hey, that could be a song. - Yes, but not a good one.
Can I have your attention, please?
I'm so glad you all came to join me
in the celebration of the motherhood lifestyle.
So help me welcome the guest of honour,
my darling baby Meg-Goo Ankle Serum.
Are your ankles dry and chafed from athleisure pants?
- No more. - Ah...
Don't worry. There are some in your gift bags
along with rubs, scrubs and an exfoliating butt chutney.
Grab one on the way out. See you.
Wait. We were told birthday party.
When do we sing Happy Birthday song?
- I demand to see the birthday boy. - Huh?
- I don't see him. Archie! - Check the playpen.
You!
Daddy's coming!
Looking for your kid?
He wandered over to my house, got into my sneaker room.
He got pretty hyped up on Nike fumes.
I got him some milk and let him climb on the ficus.
So, this so-called celebrator of motherhood
didn't even know where her own child was.
Teigen is so gonna drag you for this.
Now, everybody fucking sing.
♪ Happy birthday to you ♪
♪ Happy birthday dear Archie ♪
Car so fast.
So thrilling.
I'm The Rock. Everything about me is thrilling.
Oh. I always thought exhaust fumes smelled horrible.
But with you, they smell like Lynx Africa.
No, I'm wearing Lynx Africa.
This is wrong, but it feels so right.
Well, you know what they say about men with big carbon footprints.
They have big carbon offsetting schemes?
No. They have big cars.
Oh, The Rock, I hope this goes on forever.
Well, this movie franchise seems to.
Oh, Dwayne, so fast, so fabulous!
- Ah! - What's that, Greta?
Oh, Lee, I've done something awful.
Falling asleep watching Jason Statham? Everyone does that.
No. We must go to the climate strike now
and lie down in front of two police vans.
- Oh, gawd help us. - Lee, I'm glad I'm back.
But have you ever thought about taking steroids?
Huh?
Now, supposing you were judging a case about, say,
Donald Trump, would you be susceptible to bribes?
Cash or OxyContin?
OK, even I can't do this.
Yeah, I can. You're a judge.
Mitch, those courts still aren't packed enough.
Well, I've done all I could.
There is not one human being left in America.
That's not what I'm hearing. Send in the Rube.
But, sir, that's just a raw, oozing mass of anger and beer.
The perfect Republican judge.
Now, that's the kind of courthouse I want to see.
Open carry. States' rights. Traditional marriage.
- Secretly gay! - Ah.
My legacy.
Mah! Normally we'd go to the Maldives,
but 'cos of COVID we're staycationing
and David's booked us a week in Blackpool.
And do you know what? It's fucking horrible.
- Oh, El. - Shut up, David!
Mah!
I can't believe I got so wrapped up in my own brand
- I forgot about Archie. - It's not your fault.
And it will never happen again.
- Found him again. - Thanks, LeBron.
So, you come crawling back to Bezos looking for help?
"Oh, Mars is so inhospitable."
I'm just saying we should do what the 1% always does.
Look out for ourselves at the expense of everyone else.
The sun is about to set.
If we don't find shelter, it's Branson go bye-bye.
And Branson don't want to go bye-bye.
It'll be fine. We can survive in my ship's cargo sacs.
My God, Bezos, you went and did it.
You sent a dick pic to Mars.
I'm the first man on the planet to forward it to everyone.
Our civilization has officially begun.
Brad, how good of you to come all the way to Nebraska for this.
Yeah, if anyone asks, that's my private jet blocking the dumpster.
What's this I hear about Biden becoming a short-order cook?
Order up, Hungry Man Special.
Um, he's addressing the national crisis of...
- male hunger. - Where's my eggs over-Yeezy?
I ordered them like five damn minutes ago.
Kanye, I thought you were running for president yourself?
Yeah, but I love crazy good food.
Also, I bought this part of Nebraska. Feel me?
I... I think so, yes.
Great job, Joe. The house is packed.
And this is a $20,000-a-plate fundraiser.
Wait, you're telling me I gotta make
$20,000 worth of food per plate?
Hell, I only charge a nickel an omelette.
No, no, they don't care about the food.
- They just want to help you out. - Horse shit.
Value for money is what Uncle Omelet's about.
Step aside.
Ow!
Argh!
Millie, fryer needs more grease.
It's already passed the fill line.
It needs more, man. More.
Come on.
Hey, buddy, I'm back.
Got my Winston pillow.
Nap time. What the...?
Zow-zow-zow-zow-zow...
- Dominic... - Excuse me, Prime Minister.
I borrowed your sex toy.
It's a vacuum cleaner, and a jolly good one.
I won't have it treated disrespectfully.
I'm sorry, but it's been so long since I left
the tentacled sexlings of Pleasure Planet Ovid 9
in the galaxy of Cygnus Alpha...
I mean, my lovely wife Mary in Islington.
Well, it's just not on, Dom.
I expect certain standards of professional conduct.
Let's see if we can find you a girl in my little black book.
- But how would I woo a girl? - Well, what do you normally do?
Present an offering of blood meal for the growth of the larvae.
- Well, I suppose that's Durham for you. - Oh, yes, Durham.
Not Epsilon 5. How have you been so successful
with your many, many, many women?
Well, ruffle their hair, chuck in a bit of Latin,
then sit back and wait for the paternity suit.
Fascinating. I will execute your strategy.
May Zargon devour your enemies. I mean, tatty-bye.
Hi, it's me, Melania Trump.
Donald has asked me to tell you how much I love being First Lady.
- And tell them how big my penis is. - Yes, yes.
The thing I love most is organising
the White House Christmas celebration.
Ignore what I said on those silly leaked audio tapes.
I don't think it's a shit job at all.
To prove it, I'm going to sing some Christmas carols.
And the Secret Service found some kids to help.
♪ Away in a Manger ♪
♪ No crib for a bed... ♪
No, it's no good.
They will say my husband locks kids away with no beds.
Next song.
♪ Chestnuts cooking On a burning fire... ♪
No, stop. California on fire.
Everyone blames my husband for shit climate.
I hate Christmas so much!
I hate being First Wife.
Please, God, don't let my husband get re-elected.
Don't you dare leak this video.
Mrs Merkel is here. Prime Minister!
Zow-zow-zow-zow-zow...
And to think I was going to make a concession on fishing rights.
Ejaculatus!
- Eurgh! - Urgh.
Groovy place. Takes me back to Carnaby Street in the '70s.
Little did I imagine then
that someday I'd be living in a Martian ball sac
with my two best friends.
I don't know whether it's the weed
or the lack of oxygen, but this is all right.
Yo, homies, someone break out the munchies.
That's you, Branson. You're the in-flight snack guy.
Ah, well...
our brochures exaggerated our snack capability
and that we had in any way a working rocket.
So we have no food? No potatoes to plant?
- Or fungus farms? Or soylent slurry? - Wait! I've got some seeds.
Then we're in business. Plant those puppies.
Then we'll each squat out a measure of fertiliser.
Perfect.
I feel sorry for Earth to have lost three geniuses such as us.
Yes, indeed, so are we gonna talk or make poo pot?
Pants down, gentlemen.
Let's get to work.
New James Bond auditions. The Queen. Take one.
One's name is Bond. James Bond.
- Cut. It's "My name..." - It is? Oh.
Delighted to meet you, Mr Bond.
- No, you say, "My name is..." - Oh. My name is Windsor.
Elizabeth Alexandra Mary Saxe-Coburg Gotham...
- That's all for today. - Oh, no, it isn't.
Hmm!