Son & Hair

DONALD Trump gazes down into his son’s eyes. He plays with the boy’s soft pink hands. He pulls the babe into his arms and plants a kiss on his cheek.

“Future tycoon,” he whispers into his ear. “Future tycoon.”

And the boy listens. But chances are that all he hears is “Foofer lagoon”, or just a noise no more sensible to his young ears than the rambling mumblings of an ageing man are to ours, or Donald’s.

But whether or not the whispered words are said as a joke, as Hello! claims, or not, surely big things are planned for the young lad. Why else would be called Barron William?

Americans have a high regard for royalty, and we have long looked across the Ocean, seen the likes of Count Bassey, Duke Ellington, Don King and James Earl Ray and wondered how much of their success they owed to their regal monikers.

And now America has a Barron. Sure Barron William sounds like the kind of person Robin Hood would slap his thigh at and shout “What ho!”, “Forsooth!” and a “Hey nonny nonny” in a fruity manner. And, granted, Barron William would be a roguish sort who taxed the warts on the poor in his domain. But he is a Barron, and that is his right.

So here is Barron learning the ways of high finance, as Donald dandles him on his knee and reads him the business news.

And Barron hears the numbers and gazing up at his father’s hair wonders what life has in store for him…

Posted: 5th, July 2006 | In: Reviews Comment | TrackBack | Permalink